


Pride

by Cassiopeia_Kass



Series: Coming to Light [2]
Category: Andromeda (TV)
Genre: Attacked, Child Abandonment, Children, Dylan's descendants, Dylan's unsure about a child on a warship, Family, Family ship, M/M, Nonconsensual procreation, Pirates, Shipboard life, Slice of Life, parenting, sick kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-10-18
Updated: 2001-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 90,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23979715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassiopeia_Kass/pseuds/Cassiopeia_Kass
Summary: A surprise from Dylan’s past brings opportunities and dangers.
Relationships: Seamus Harper/Dylan Hunt
Series: Coming to Light [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1728781
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (This is [Viridian5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5) posting for Cassiopeia, a friend of mine who's long gone out of fandom but left me as a kind of caretaker of her _Andromeda_ fics. They've been linked at my personal site for a very long time but I wanted to share them with the fandom more.)

Tired and slightly out of sorts from his dealings with recalcitrant Perseids, Dylan nodded at Beka, who stood waiting at the hangar bay door.

"How’d it go?" 

"It went." He sighed. "But, they’re going to sign the charter, so it was worth all of it. I think."

Beka’s mouth curved. "You look beat."

"I feel that way." He sighed and knuckled his eyes. "Everything quiet here?"

"It was moderately dull. We did run into a freighter with a sick crew, but a little quarantine procedure and Rommie’s magic potions and all ended well."

He arched an eyebrow. "What kind of sickness?"

"The lovely, lovely Triangulum measles." Beka shuddered. "Harper’s already had them once, and been cured, thanks to Rommie. I didn’t take any chances with it, Dylan, trust me."

He nodded. "Good work. Speaking of Harper, how’s he doing?"

"He’s revoltingly normal." Beka’s gaze was shadowed. "I mean, I’m not complaining, but after what happened, I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Dylan smiled faintly. "He’s a tough little bastard. Let’s just count our blessings--if that CD-ROM had loaded into his neural net, we’d all be having nightmares."

She gave him a curious look. "What was on it?"

"I don’t know. But from what Harper told me, Martin had planned to lock him into a loop of very unpleasant memories."

"God." Beka shuddered again. "Well, it didn’t happen, and I’m going to do exactly that, just count our blessings."

He paused at the juncture of the corridor. "Who’s on command?"

"I’m on my way to relieve Tyr. Go get some rest. Harper worked twenty-four hours straight, I swear, and he’s totally crashed, too." Brief smile. 

"In his quarters?" He rubbed his forehead.

"Where do you think he is, Dylan?" Another smile. "Get some sleep."

He blinked, flushed. "Ah. Thanks." He turned toward his quarters, both embarrassed and relieved. He must be even more tired than he thought, not to realize before he’d asked. Harper had diffidently asked if Dylan would mind; he not only didn’t mind, it was actually a pleasure to look forward to finding Harper already in his quarters rather than having to go in search of him.

And once he’d arrived there, he smiled at the lump under the blankets, kept the lights low, and undressed quietly. Harper made a small noise in his sleep, stirred a little, but didn’t move when Dylan got into bed beside him. Sighing, Dylan let the tension of having negotiated the end to a civil war and a new entrant into the Commonwealth seep away, lying close enough to touch Harper, but not touching.

Harper jerked in his sleep and made a sound that had nothing to do with pleasant dreams; leaning up on one elbow, Dylan put his palm on Harper’s back, the tried and true method, but this time Harper jack-knifed out of bed and landed on the floor.

Dylan tried to grab, missed, and Harper yelped as the shock of the fall woke him up.

"Shit!" Harper gaped at him. "Oh. It’s you. Sorry." He rubbed his eyes like a child, pulled himself back up into bed.

Dylan was sitting up, appalled. "Harper, I’m--"

But Harper climbed right into his arms, kissed him.

Right, like he had any chance of resisting an armful/lapful of Harper. He returned the kiss, wrapped his arms around Harper. "I really didn’t mean to startle you," he murmured.

"S’okay. I’m glad you’re back." Another kiss and Harper finger-combed his hair. "I’ve been having some rancid dreams."

It was hardly surprising. He rubbed Harper’s back. "Martin?"

Harper blinked. "Him? Nah. Dreaming about when I got this." He tilted his head. "That’s all."

"Ah." He kept rubbing Harper’s back. "All."

Harper rested his forehead against Dylan’s. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But it’s just a dream and it happened a long time ago, and I’m not gonna get upset about it. Especially right now."

"I suppose I can understand that." He tightened his arms, nuzzled. "It’s good to be back."

"Tired?" Harper’s voice was soft. "Come on, let’s get some sleep."

He rubbed the small of Harper’s back. "I don’t know, I might be getting my second wind."

"I’m not." But Harper grinned at him. "Gotta be that superior genetic thing going on."

Dylan tipped them both back down, ruffled the short hair at the nape of Harper’s neck with one hand. "Maybe. Maybe it’s just the company I keep." But he was tired, no matter how tempting a warm, semi-naked Harper was. It was enough, for the moment, to slide his leg between Harper’s and tighten his arm over Harper’s waist. "No more rancid dreams."

Harper smiled. "Yes, boss."

He bit Harper’s chin lightly. "Stop that."

"You’re so demanding." Harper nestled in closer. "Besides, I don’t have nightmares when you’re here. We’re both safe."

Safe. Dylan closed his eyes, just letting peace and comfort soak in. "Oh, yeah." And just that quickly, he slid under.

  


* * *

Dylan woke when the chron chimed, reached out, and turned it off. Rolling over, he found Harper still mostly asleep, despite the alarm. Fine by him, he thought and wrapped himself around Harper before Harper shifted, nuzzled the nape of Harper’s neck, and set about taking carnal advantage while he still could.

Harper didn’t seem disposed to protest; indeed, Harper seemed to be disposed to not only aid and abet him, but ended up taking over somewhere around the time Dylan’s brain melted down with Harper’s mouth and fingers in too many places at once.

He supposed it was because he had no aim beyond seeing Harper’s face go ecstatic and effortful, and Harper clearly had a plan, but he wasn’t complaining, not at all, and having Harper inside him renewed the sense of connection that too long apart and too many dead faces had worn down.

Hot and messy and incredible, and then Harper sank down on top of him, nuzzling whatever bits he could reach. Dylan finger-combed feathery locks of hair, sighing with satiation and the sudden desire for a nap.

Harper sucked at the hollow of Dylan’s throat. 

"Marking territory?" Dylan asked lazily.

"Remarking, thanks very much." Harper lifted his head to survey his work. "There. Heh."

Dylan tried to look down, failed. "Are you sure that’s enough? It’s been quite a while, you know."

Harper’s eyes narrowed. "I could always put one on, say, your cheekbone."

Dylan smiled. "You could try. I still outweigh you."

"That’s true." Harper smiled winningly. "Yeah, I think it’s enough. Wanna shower with me?"

Dylan sighed regretfully. "No, I think I want to nap with you. But, duty calls." He gently smacked Harper’s ass. 

Thoughtful look. "You know, you could sort of take a day off. Tyr said it was pretty bad down there."

Dylan considered. "It was at first. The last nine or ten days, though, it’s just been haggling. That’s why I sent Tyr back, I was afraid he was going to end up killing someone."

Long, sober look and Harper sighed, leaned down to kiss Dylan’s chest. "You were gone too long."

"I agree."

"Shower?"

"Absolutely."

Harper grinned, rolled off him. "Great. And then I’ll make you some breakfast."

Dylan grinned back. "How can I resist an offer like that?" 

"You can’t. Especially since I’m gonna wash your back, too." 

Harper was right. He couldn’t.

The shower wasn’t quite as long and luxurious as Dylan had hoped, but Harper had breakfast on his mind. Presumably for Dylan, since Harper was prone to drinking a couple of Sparky colas for breakfast and then hitting the mess around the middle of his morning. 

He wasn’t entirely sure what Harper had in mind, since Harper insisted he wallow in his robe, just out of range from where he could keep a weather eye on Harper’s cooking. Harper’s attention tended to wander while waiting for things to cook; the same man who could focus intently on repairing a slipstream drive got bored waiting for things to cook slowly, with the result that Harper’s efforts tended to be either overdone or underdone.

Dylan ate them all without complaint, regardless. There was something touching about Harper’s desire to try, whatever the level of success, and it wasn’t as if the results were inedible.

And besides, wallowing while watching Harper was damned well a pleasure in itself.

"You were gone too long," Harper said, eyeing the coffeemaker. "You gotta be more careful when you do that Commonwealth sales pitch. What if those rebels had gotten you?" Sidelong look. "It’d be a real bitch, now that I’ve gotten used to this level of luxury."

Dylan slouched in the chair, stretched out his legs. "I was careful. I’d hate to inconvenience you." Dryly.

Another sidelong look. A very long one, and then Harper was crouched by the chair, his expression worried. "You know I’m just ragging, right?"

Dylan’s throat was suddenly too tight. He ruffled Harper’s hair. "I missed you, too, don’t get all sentimental on me." 

Harper’s smile was luminous, he leaned up and Dylan leaned down and yeah, kissing Harper was all kinds of all right, too.

Harper popped back up. "Good, I’d hate for you to inconvenience me, too." 

Dylan reached out, managed to reach far enough to smack Harper’s ass lightly as he walked away. "I’m getting very hungry."

"It’s almost ready." Harper walked backward a few steps, grinning, turned back around, and opened a cabinet for mugs. "Coffee?"

"Absolutely."

As it turned out, breakfast was something Harper called pancakes; Dylan regarded them with amusement, noted the wildly varying sizes of each, but spooned fruit preserves on them in favor of the sugary syrup Harper apparently favored. They were actually very tasty, and he _was_ genuinely hungry, and besides, Harper was telling him everything that had happened on board during his absence.

Not that it was anything Beka hadn’t already told him, exactly, but hearing Harper’s spin was always... revelatory.

So going to command deck didn’t seem quite so onerous, not with Harper heading that way himself.

  


* * *

"Shore leave?" Beka’s eyes danced. "Where? When? How?"

Leaning back in the pilot’s chair, Dylan grinned. "I know _I’ve_ earned it. I suspect the rest of you have. I’m not sure where. Make suggestions."

"Seneschal, it’s closest." Beka’s eyes gleamed. 

"And it has casinos," Harper put in, legs dangling from the accessway. 

"And shops!" Trance beamed at all of them. "I need some things for my plants," she added, when all heads turned.

"I’m sure that I’ll find something to do," Tyr said mildly. "You don’t have any other long lost enemies, do you, Mr. Harper?"

Harper looked blank for a moment. "None that I can think of."

Tyr’s mouth twitched. "I’ll have to find other entertainment, then."

"Funny guy." But Harper’s tone was amused anyway.

"Seneschal it is," Dylan said, satisfied. He was going to show Harper a good time, dammit, the good time they hadn’t had when Martin had showed up. He glanced Harper’s way, allowed his smile to warm briefly.

Harper winked at him and slid back into the accessway to return to work.

Yes, he rather thought they’d all earned some shore leave. And he was damned well looking forward to it.

"All ahead full, Rommie, for Seneschal Drift."

"Aye, Captain." 

Beka beamed at him.

  


* * *

Seneschal was... Seneschal. Harper hummed happily to himself as he made his way to the hotel. Trance had indulged him with, ah, a bit of gambling. Not enough to call a lot of attention to the two of them, but enough to let him consider a couple of possible gifts for Dylan. Not that Dylan needed gifts, but he still had fond memories of Dylan’s expression when he’d seen the Scotch Harper had gotten for him.

He made his way through the lobby, getting a few odd looks from some of the more affluent guests, but hell if he’d let a bunch of stuffed shirts bother him. Three or four days alone with Dylan, a nice hotel room instead of one of the low rent cubicles, and all of Seneschal Drift before them, and he didn’t think his good mood could be dented with a hammer.

At least until he walked into the lounge to see Dylan politely talking with someone. A female someone. A female someone who looked vaguely familiar to him, and that reminded him of Tyr’s question. He frowned and edged around the crowd, trying to get a better look at her face, and then she tilted her head back flirtatiously--

Oh, shit. What was her name? Fatima, that was it, Fatima Tregozzi, from the Silver Falcon, a trader ship whose crew was solely composed of the Tregozzi clan. He’d spent a memorable thirty-six hours with her, and been lucky to escape with his skin intact--he’d been wobbly for days, even if he’d had one helluva grin.

This could be embarrassing. Especially if Fatima was after Dylan. He straightened his shoulders anyway, headed for Dylan. Dylan looked up, smiled at him, and damn, no matter how many times he saw that smile, it made his knees feel wobbly. He smiled back, embarrassed or not, and Fatima turned her head, a little disgruntled.

"You!" She turned, suddenly furious, swung on him--and Dylan caught her wrist, startled. She glared at him, spat out a lot of Chari at Harper.

Since he didn’t speak Chari, it didn’t bother him, but what the _hell_ \-- "Hey!" Indignant. "What the hell is your problem? Nice to see _you_ again, too."

She jerked her wrist free. "You bastard," she hissed. "You didn’t tell me you were genetically damaged."

Harper’s jaw dropped. He looked from her to Dylan. "What?" 

She swung again, and this time he blocked it himself. "Look, Fatima, I don’t know what your problem is--"

"What’s going on here, granddaughter." A stern voice.

Harper spared a glance, saw an older woman standing there with what looked like a phalanx of younger kin behind her. "That’s what I’d like to know."

The woman arched an eyebrow at him, and Fatima started ranting in Chari at her.

One sharp gesture from the woman and Fatima shut up, took a step backward, her expression sullen. "I am Captain Miriam Tregozzi of the Falco d’Argento." She looked at Dylan, lifted an eyebrow. "Am I mistaken, or is that the uniform of the Commonwealth High Guard?"

Dylan nodded, his expression wary. "It is. Captain Dylan Hunt of the Andromeda Ascendant, ma’am."

One of the handful of people behind Captain Tregozzi hissed and said something in Chari. Another sharp gesture and they quieted.

Tregozzi’s mouth curved slightly. "The same Dylan Hunt who fought the Gl’eddi invasion on Chariva?"

Dylan glanced at Harper, a faint line between his eyebrows. "I’m afraid you have the advantage of me, ma’am. I once knew a Miriam Tregozzi on Chariva, but that was more than three hundred years ago."

Harper really didn’t like Tregozzi’s smile. 

"I know," she said calmly, "I am descended from that Miriam. And from you, Dylan Hunt."

Harper’s jaw dropped.

"From me," Dylan repeated, apparently not impressed.

Tregozzi laughed softly. "Of course, you will want to see proof. Not that it’s important, but we are honored to finally meet the progenitor of our family. We seek nothing from you, Dylan Hunt, but I admit, I had never expected to meet you face to face."

She seemed remarkably calm for someone face to face with someone she considered an ancestor, Harper thought and closed his mouth. At least Fatima had calmed down; she was gazing at Dylan with something that looked like awe and amazement and even, appallingly, a glint of calculation.

Dylan looked beyond Tregozzi at her entourage, nodded. "You’ll understand my skepticism."

"Of course. Come, sit with me, I’ll have my medical officer bring genetic samples and you can take them back to your ship for comparison." Tregozzi lifted hand invitingly. "Share a glass of wine with me."

Dylan looked at Harper.

Harper saw regret and the need to know behind Dylan’s calm mask. "I’ll meet you back at the room," he muttered and looked at Fatima warily.

She didn’t seem disposed to give him any more difficulty, but none of this was a good sign for the rest of their shore leave.

But Dylan nodded. "Thanks, Harper. Order dinner, I won’t be too long."

That helped. A lot. He smiled back at Dylan, nodded. "Anything in particular?"

Dylan’s mouth quirked. "Knock yourself out."

He grinned, nodded, and left before Fatima could change her mind about good behavior.

But he was still bothered by that crack about genetic damage.

  


* * *

Dylan keyed the door open, sighed when he saw Harper was sleeping, stretched out across the foot of the bed. He’d been far longer than he’d expected, but it wasn’t everyday that a man found out he had hundreds of descendants that he hadn’t expected or known about.

Waking Harper wasn’t going to be pleasant, not with what he had to tell him. Disappointment aside, Harper wasn’t going to be happy, no happier than Dylan was. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he cupped Harper’s face. "Hey." Softly.

Harper blinked suddenly, pushed himself upright. "I fell asleep," he told Dylan unnecessarily. "I went ahead and ate before it got cold."

"I’m sorry." He leaned in to kiss Harper’s mouth gently. 

One arm went around his neck, and Harper returned the kiss. Drew back to study him. "I was starting to think maybe you got kidnapped and I should get Rommie on the case."

Dylan managed a smile. "It, ah, took a while. Turns out she’s right."

Harper’s eyes narrowed. "You and the first Miriam Tregozzi," he guessed.

Dylan nodded. "Right. She was a freedom fighter on Chariva, I got caught behind enemy lines. The inevitable happened when she smuggled me back to the right side, she vanished before my unit left and that was it. I thought."

Harper sighed. "You okay?"

"Mostly." He was, mostly, although there was a residual core of anger at having been... he supposed he felt as if Miriam had lied to him, at least by omission, though he had no idea what he would have done. He’d been younger then, only twenty-six, and his reaction to a child he hadn’t planned on might not have been particularly constructive. Which might have been why Miriam hadn’t told him. "There’s more, Harper."

Harper frowned. "More of what?"

"Fatima." Dylan closed his eyes briefly. "You spent a few days with her, what, a few years ago?"

"About three, yeah." Harper’s eyes widened. "Wait a minute, that can’t be, I had an implant...." His voice trailed off as he studied Dylan’s face. "What?"

"One of the reasons it took me so long to get back is that I had Rommie check the child’s DNA against yours. Evidently, the implant failed."

Harper went utterly still. "You had Rommie check." Uninflected.

"The child is sick, Harper. She’s... she’s dying, in fact. But it isn’t your genes, exactly. It’s a maternally linked syndrome; the Chari don’t believe in genetic engineering, they haven’t eliminated it. I offered the Tregozzi Rommie’s services in seeing what can be done."

Harper was silent. "Kid got a bad roll of the dice." Flatly. "Okay, so then what?"

"So then they take her back to the Falco and go back to their lives." Dylan rubbed his face.

"Okay." Harper nodded, took in a deep breath. "Okay, I can deal. I’m good."

"Are you?" Dylan cupped Harper’s face again, examined the alarmingly neutral expression.

"Mostly." Harper sighed, put his forehead against Dylan’s shoulder. "I’m pissed. But, what can I do about it?"

He rubbed the back of Harper’s neck. "I can understand that very well." A little dryly. "And it’s been three hundred years for me."

"Yeah." Faintly and then Harper jerked back, stared at him wide-eyed. "Oh, jeez, I just realized, I slept with your however many times great granddaughter."

Laughter bubbled up from out of nowhere. "Well, I can’t fault her taste, even if I don’t much like the bitch."

Harper was aghast. "That’s... creepy."

"Try not to worry about it." He pulled Harper back, kissed him. "I’m not planning on it."

"It’s still really creepy." But Harper put his arms around Dylan’s neck. "Want me to order something up for you?"

Dylan smiled, nuzzled. "That would be great. And then I don’t plan on leaving this room for, oh, at least twelve hours or more."

Harper lit up from within. "Yeah? But what about--" A vague gesture.

Dylan arched an eyebrow. "Tyr is on board keeping an eye on our guests, and really, it’s just the Falco’s medical officer and the child. I doubt either of them is particularly dangerous, with Tyr and Rommie keeping an eye on them."

"Tyr," Harper said reflectively. "You didn’t tell him, ah, any of this?"

"Hell, no." Dylan shook his head. "Well, not about the little girl. But I did tell him...." His mouth twitched, he couldn’t help it. "I did tell him that I, ah, apparently had fathered the Tregozzi clan."

Harper’s eyes widened again and he hooted. "Hah. He’s gotta be eating his liver."

"Or considering whether or not he should eat mine." Dylan laughed outright. "You should have seen his expression."

Harper snickered, pulled away to slide across the bed to the comp console next to the bed. "Oh, I wish I had. Believe me." Fervently, and Harper began punching selections in. "There, dinner’s on the way." He looked back at Dylan and there was something... vulnerable about his eyes. "You think Rommie can help the kid?"

"Rommie thinks so." Soberly. "And I trust her judgement."

"Me, too." Harper brightened again. "Good."

Dylan crooked a finger. "Come here."

And blessedly, happily, Harper did.

  


* * *

Dylan woke at the sound of the comm chime, peered at the chron to discover that he’d only been asleep for a few hours. Soddenly asleep, after taking thorough advantage of Harper, who was snugged up behind him, one arm over Dylan’s chest. The comm chimed again, and he reached out, slapped the button that would bring up the screen, opened the channel. This necessitated some shifting, which made Harper grumble in sleep and roll away; he regretted that even as Tyr’s face came onscreen.

"Dylan," Tyr said, "Are you aware that the Falco d’Argento has left port?"

That woke him up fast. "What? They left their people on Andromeda."

"They left the child, the medical officer had gone back, allegedly to bring back some of the child’s things. A messenger arrived a few moments ago with those things." Tyr looked annoyed. "As it happens, the Falco left an hour ago."

Dylan’s stomach knotted. "Where is it now?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. They slipstreamed once they were out of range of the Drift, according to the Drift control records." 

Hell and hell and bloody hell. "Dammit. Call everyone back, Tyr, and see if they filed any destination."

Tyr nodded, arched an eyebrow. "Shall I alert Drift authorities to come and get the child?"

"No." He was conscious of an emotion he couldn’t identify. "Find the damned Falco, that’s all."

Tyr nodded and broke the connection.

He turned to find Harper sitting up. "They dumped the kid." Flatly.

"Evidently." He brought the lights up, saw Harper’s mouth had thinned into a flat line. "Harper--"

"Yeah, I know. Do I have time for a shower?"

"Both of us, do." He hated this, hated it, hated it, and yet there was something else he was almost reluctant to recognize. The child, however conceived, was Harper’s and, weirdly, indirectly, one of his. "I’m not turning her over to the authorities. At least not until Rommie’s work is done."

Harper nodded grimly. "Good. Drift authorities--well, some are honest, some aren’t, but I wouldn’t give them a damn dead dog, most of them. I have to tell you, though, the Tregozzis sure as hell didn’t inherit your ethics." Flat tone and Harper rolled out of bed, padded toward the bathroom.

Dylan sighed, rubbed his face. More and more disastrous, and who the hell knew what Harper felt behind that mask. The venom in his voice was real enough, and while that wasn’t precisely reassuring, it meant Harper was in agreement at least that far.

None of which made any of this easier. 

He got up, found clean clothes for both of them, and followed Harper into the bathroom.

  


* * *

Harper could hear the crying before they even got to med-deck. Thin and exhausted, it made his gut knot, and seeing the kid didn’t let that knot loosen.

She was tiny and frail and obviously scared to death, lying curled on her side in the make-shifted crib. 

His throat ached. "Hey, kid, it’s gonna be okay." Which was a lie, he had no idea how to _make_ it okay, she’d been thrown away by the people she trusted, left with complete strangers.

And he knew why, hell if he didn’t. She was sick, that was why, and they didn’t want their resources drained by a sick kid.

That much was going to be all right, at least. He put a hand out, and the kid panicked, crammed herself into a corner of the crib, small hands raised to fend him off. He jerked back, and Dylan was suddenly there, leaning in to lift her up.

"I’m sorry, Dylan," Rommie said, appearing on the other side of the crib. "I can’t seem to get her to stop crying."

"What’s her name, Rommie?" Dylan asked, steadying the kid against his shoulder.

"According to the documents that were sent over, it’s Amalea Tregozzi, but Medical Officer Tregozzi called her Lea." Rommie folded her arms, watched Dylan skeptically.

The kid kept crying, that tired, thin sound, and tried to push Dylan away. It made Harper feel sicker. "Put her down," he muttered, "she’s scared."

"I know she’s scared," Dylan said irritably, "I’m trying to unscare her."

"It’s not working."

Dylan’s expression was harassed. "Yeah, I see that, but maybe I can wear her down."

"She’s already--" Harper bit his lip, swallowed hard. "Trance," he blurted. "Everybody loves Trance. Get Trance down here."

Rommie arched an eyebrow. "He has a point."

"Do it," Dylan said and jiggled the kid--Lea, Harper reminded himself. The jiggling didn’t help either, and Harper wanted to put his hands over his ears, wanted to hurt something or someone, wanted for the kid to just fucking _stop_ already.

What the hell did Dylan expect? That she’d just recognize them as blood kin and calm down? "I gotta go," he muttered and fled before he could do or say something he’d regret.

But even out of earshot, he could still hear that crying. 

It drove him from the machine shop to the hangar bay, but even working on his favorite project didn’t help. He stood back and surveyed it without pleasure after about an hour.

She wasn’t even a kid, she was a baby. He should have known that, but somehow he’d had this vision of an older kid, not a baby, never mind he could do the math. Just a baby, thrown out on the trash heap because she was sick, and he’d seen a lot of that on Earth, where there was at least something that almost excused it.

Almost.

She hadn’t asked to be born, hadn’t asked to be sick, and he suddenly wanted Fatima’s neck between his hands with an urgency that left him sick and shaking. He picked up the next strut to weld it into place, and then he wasn’t welding, he was hitting, tearing apart what it had taken months to build....

And someone grabbed him from behind, he twisted around to strike back and was pulled down, landed on the floor on top of that someone and a brutal grip held his wrists.

"Harper!" Sharp voice, familiar voice.

Dylan.

He stopped trying to hit, rolled away to lie on the floor face down and just shake.

Dylan’s arms were around him then, and even if it didn’t make him stop shaking, it made him feel less alone.

Best of all, Dylan didn’t ask why, just held him, not talking, not yelling at him, not doing anything but breathing. 

His shaking eased up after a while and he realized his face was wet. Shit. "Sorry." 

Dylan sighed. "Your hands are bleeding."

Oh, shit. He raised them, blinked hard at the cuts. "Oh." Exhausted suddenly. "S’okay, just cuts, not too bad. Let me up."

Dylan let go, sat up with him. "You want to tell me?"

Harper lifted his hands to rub his face, stopped. "It’s just--can Rommie really help her?"

"Yes." Dylan said it firmly. 

"We can’t give her back to them, they threw her out." He shuddered.

Dylan’s hand touched the back of his neck. "My own thoughts were tending that way." Dryly. "But I don’t know what else to do with her."

"We have to think of something." He looked at Dylan then. "I know what it’s like."

Dylan’s face went still. "What it’s like?"

"To be thrown out. I mean, you know, to be fair, I don’t really know what happened. Maybe something happened to my family while I was in the refugee clinic. Maybe they didn’t really leave me. I used to think that, but then I got older. And I saw kids getting dumped all the time, dumped or sold. Hard to say what was worse." He rolled his shoulders, glanced at Dylan, and saw pain there. "Hey, remember, I’m okay. I made it."

"Yeah." Dylan glanced away briefly. "Yeah, I know. Come on, let’s get those hands taken care of."

Harper nodded. "Did Trance do any good?"

Some of Dylan’s sorrow lifted. "Actually, yes. I wouldn’t say that Lea’s completely won over, but she’s finally stopped crying, and Trance got her to eat something. That was a helluva good idea."

There was that much at least. "Okay. I can stand going to med-deck if she’s not crying like that."

Dylan leaned in, cupped his face. "I’ll go in ahead, just to make sure." Solemn expression. "Harper, I’m sorry for all of this--"

"No," he interrupted. "It’s okay, it’s not your fault."

"Isn’t it?" Dylan closed his eyes briefly. "I wasn’t even as responsible as you, the idea of Miriam getting pregnant never even occurred to me." Dry suddenly. "I obviously wasn’t remembering my basic sex ed, never mind I wasn’t a kid."

Harper sighed. "Dylan, if you’re going to follow that train of thought and blame yourself for me hooking up with Fatima, I’m going to have to hit you for real."

"Am I that obvious?" Dylan’s mouth quirked.

"Isn’t everything your fault?"

"Probably." Dylan got up, held out a hand. "Fatima certainly is. Well, and Miriam’s, I can’t lay it all on myself."

"There’s a change." Harper took the offered hand, pulled himself to his feet. Yeah, he’d freaked out all right, the flight module looked like a lunatic had been at it. "Shit."

"Mmmhmm." Dylan’s expression was noncommittal.

"Okay, let’s go." Harper squared his shoulders. His knees were a little wobbly, but that was the fading adrenaline rush. He could deal. Just as long as the kid didn’t start crying again, he could deal. "Are you always this understanding, or is it just me?"

"Excuse me, do you have amnesia?" Dylan’s mouth twitched. "It’s partly you, and partly because... because I’m scared witless. Of a two-year-old. Battle I can face."

Somehow, that made him feel better on both counts. "Oh, yeah. I hear that." Heartfelt.

Dylan was right; Trance sat with the kid on her lap and was successfully coaxing her to eat something that looked less than appetizing. Lea. He had to remember that, she had a name, she was real, not just some theoretical kid who existed on the Falco.

"How’s she doing?" he asked Trance.

Trance glanced that way, and her smile froze. "Harper, what did you do?"

"I’ll take care of it," Dylan said hastily. "Keep on with Lea."

Lea was staring at Trance, reached up to put one small finger on Trance’s cheek. Trance beamed at her and offered another bite of whatever the hell was in the bowl.

"She’s never seen a purple babe like you," Harper said and got up on the examination table at Dylan’s gesture.

"Harper," Trance chided, but ruined the effect by giggling. "She does seem to find me pretty interesting."

Lea said something soft to Trance, who blinked. "What did she say?"

Harper opened his mouth, closed it. Looked helplessly at Dylan.

"I have no idea," Dylan said and got out the stuff to clean the cuts. "Brace yourself, Harper."

He grimaced. It stung, but his eyes strayed back to Lea as she pushed the spoon away and shook her head pretty damn vehemently.

"I think she’s done," Trance said comfortably. "Rommie said it was okay if I took her to hydroponics as long as I watched her temp. She’s got a little fever from the treatment."

Lea looked around and watched Dylan working on Harper’s hand with a sadly wary expression. She let Trance smooth her hair, but ducked her head to keep her eye on both Dylan and Harper. "Hi, Lea," Harper risked.

She blinked at him, drew back against Trance watchfully.

It made his throat ache again. "Is it just me, or is she just a little too freaked out for just having strangers around?"

Dylan turned to look, frowned. "I don’t know."

"She’s in a strange place," Trance said reasonably. "And she’s really not _that_ freaked out, Harper. She ate a good breakfast, and now we’re going to hydroponics." She used a sterile wipe to remove traces of that breakfast from Lea’s hands and mouth. "Okay, Lea, let’s go see Walter."

Lea said something with an interrogative tone.

Trance smoothed her hair again. "I’m sorry, Lea, I don’t speak Chari."

Dylan frowned again, holding the fuser in midair. "I wonder if Rev does."

"You were _on_ Chariva and you _don’t_ speak it?" Harper rolled his eyes.

"I didn’t need to. This was before Chariva was independent, they spoke Common." Dylan scowled at him, tugged at his fingers, and began to fuse the cuts.

Lea rubbed one fist in her eye, the way little kids did. Looked up at Trance.

Trance smiled at her and stood up, holding Lea firmly against her shoulder. "Rommie says her muscles are still a little weak, but that will change as soon as she’s strong enough to get around on her own."

Harper nodded, felt a little flare of heat from the fuser, and winced. "Which will hopefully be soon," he muttered.

"Sorry, sorry." Dylan turned the fuser off. "Better?"

He flexed his fingers. "Better. Think that thing would rebuild what I broke?"

"Sorry." 

"We’ll see you two later," Trance said. "Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her."

"I know," Dylan said gently. "Thanks, Trance."

She beamed at them both and left, Lea’s small face peering over her shoulder.

She was so scared, Harper thought, and found that his hands had turned into fists again.

  


* * *

Beka was dumbfounded. "She’s _your_ kid?"

They were sitting in the officers’ mess, a sort of general crew meeting. 

Harper winced. "Uh, yeah."

Dylan’s mouth quirked. "And mine, sort of."

Beka’s jaw dropped. "This I have to hear," she finally said.

Tyr looked... well, just as dumbfounded. That might be worth all the grief, Harper thought distantly, listening to Dylan repeat the explanation for the benefit of those crewmembers that hadn’t heard it.

"You’re just full of surprises," Beka told Dylan and looked at Harper. "Hey, Seamus, are you okay?"

"Mostly," he said and rubbed his face. 

"So are we going to go after her family?" Rev asked softly. "After they abandoned her?"

"That was my initial impulse," Dylan admitted.

"But he changed his mind," Harper said, feeling a little flare of irritation. 

Dylan glanced at him, a little surprised. "Well, yes. For the obvious reason that her family abandoned her."

Beka sat down, eyed Harper for a moment. "Are you really mostly okay?" Softly.

"Why shouldn’t he be?" Tyr’s tone was irritable. "He’s a father."

Oh, right. Nietzschean perspective. Harper rolled his eyes at Beka. "I guess, yeah. Really pissed, mostly."

"Fool," Tyr growled.

He managed to contain the sudden, urgent desire to leap across the table and try to kill Tyr. "You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about."

"That’s enough, Tyr." Dylan’s voice went steely suddenly. "As you’re well aware, applying Nietzschean thinking to non-Nietzschean situations is seldom effective."

Tyr gazed at Dylan for a moment, his eyes hooded, finally nodded.

Trance came in, then, carrying Lea, which naturally stopped conversation. "Hi, guys. Sorry I’m late, Rommie said to feed Lea as often as she wanted to eat, so we stopped for a snack."

Tyr frowned, glanced at Harper, and nodded.

Maybe that was another Nietzschean apology. Harper throttled his temper back, took in a deep breath. Beka studied him, sighed.

Lea said something in either Chari or baby babble or both.

"That reminds me, Rev, do you by any chance speak Chari?" Dylan sounded tired.

"A bit," Rev said. "But won’t she find me a bit frightening?"

"Depends on whether she’s ever seen Magog before. No offense, Rev." Harper sighed.

"None taken, Harper."

Trance sat down between Dylan and Rev. "Try, Rev."

Lea stared at Rev in fascination that clearly outweighed her wariness. She looked up at Trance and said something, and Rev chuckled.

"What?" Dylan arched an eyebrow.

"She was commenting on the fact that Trance and I are very different from the rest of you." Rev said something in Chari, very softly.

Lea’s eyes widened, but there was no fear. She babbled at Rev, her tone a little plaintive. He hesitated, glanced at Harper and Dylan, and then answered her.

Harper had never seen a two-year-old look resigned. She leaned back on Trance and put a finger in her mouth.

Rev glanced at them again briefly, and said something else, got an almost shy smile. 

Okay, now he was in trouble. Harper started to get up, wanting to escape, but when Beka looked at him curiously, he thought better of it. 

"What was all that?" Dylan asked, a little irritably. 

"Ah, she asked where her grandmother was. Evidently, the medical officer is also her grandmother. I took the liberty of telling her she’d be staying with us until she was well again." Rev tilted his head slightly. "I hope that was appropriate."

Dylan sighed, rubbed his face. "Very appropriate."

"And then I asked her if she’d had fun helping Trance in the garden. She didn’t answer."

Dylan nodded. "At least you got a smile out of her."

"Dylan, she’s very young, and undoubtedly, we’re the first strangers she’s ever seen." Rev’s tone was mild.

Harper’s stomach knotted. "Rev, ask her about her mother."

Dylan shifted suddenly. "I’d rather he didn’t." Mildly.

Harper turned in his chair, frowned at Dylan. "Why not?"

"Because at the moment, she’s happy. I’d like to keep her that way." 

Harper stared and Dylan stared back.

Beka took in a breath. "Good point, Seamus. Okay, anyway, she’s here, and she’s going to be here for a while."

Panic flared again; Harper counted to ten to control it. "Yeah, we’ve got to figure out the practicalities. Like where she’s going to be living."

"She can’t stay here," Dylan said, but his tone was unconvinced. "This is a _warship_."

"Actually, I thought my mission was different now." Rommie arched an eyebrow.

Dylan scowled at her. "Can you tell me we haven’t faced battle lately?"

"The Falco was heavily armed," Beka told the room in general. "Which suggests that maybe they have a few battles of their own. And I grew up on the Maru. Face it, Dylan, the universe is a dangerous place."

"What will you do with her if she doesn’t stay here?" Tyr’s voice was lazy. "Turn her over to more strangers?"

"There is that," Beka agreed. "Harper doesn’t have any family left, and as much as I love my brother, I wouldn’t send him email, let alone a kid."

Dylan sighed. "And my only apparent family is composed of the very people who abandoned her." He looked back at Lea, who was smiling at Rev again. "There’s no point in even debating this until she _is_ well again." Dismissively.

Vaguely relieved, Harper nodded. "Okay, I’ll take a look at some of the empty quarters--"

"She’s too little to stay alone." Beka gave him a pitying look. "She’s going to have to stay with one of us. And I know who I vote for."

Harper blinked. "Wait a minute, I don’t know anything about--"

"Fine." Dylan rubbed his face again. "Fair enough. This is my doing."

Oh, fine. Great. Terrific. Harper felt panicked again. "What are we going to do if she starts screaming again?" Open mouth, put foot in, he felt Dylan’s startled glance rather than saw it. Shit. Shit. Shit. It was hardly a secret that he and Dylan were more or less sharing quarters, but that didn’t mean either of them had ever confirmed it before.

Trance was looking thoughtful. "I don’t mind if she stays with me."

Immediately, Harper felt guilty. "No, it’s okay, Trance. But if she starts crying again, can you help?" 

Trance looked down at Lea and smiled. "Of course! I like her. But Rev, you need to start teaching me Chari so I can start teaching her Common."

If anyone could, it would be Trance, Harper thought and laced his fingers together to keep them from shaking. "The quarters next to yours, I could cut a door in that far wall." Very softly, and with an apologetic look.

Dylan blinked at him, smiled faintly. "I suppose. Let’s wait on that, though."

Abruptly, his panic receded, leaving him coolheaded and clear. He got up, went to crouch between Rev and Trance, put out one finger in greeting. "Rev, will you tell her who I am?"

"Of course." Rev spoke softly in Chari.

He wasn’t sure, given the Tregozzi clan, that Lea would even know what a father was. Hell, he wasn’t even sure that _he_ knew what a father was, given his childhood. They’d have to muddle along, he guessed. He’d just have to let Beka work on Dylan. He looked toward Beka and held her gaze. Saw her nod fractionally.

Rev kept speaking in Chari and then Lea put out a small hand to touch his finger. Just a touch and she pulled her hand back as if she was afraid he’d grab her, but he just kept holding it out until those little fingers closed around it. "Nice to meet you, kid," he told her, and his throat was suddenly too tight. "Hope you can put up with us."

And then, oh shit, she gave him that shy little smile again, still holding on to his finger. He was sooooo screwed.

But he wasn’t going to let anybody dump her again.

  


* * *

Dylan found himself staring at the wall next to his desk. Rhade’s quarters lay beyond, a place he had mentally erased. Rhade didn’t deserve a memorial, Rhade didn’t deserve anything. He didn’t want to see anything that would remind him of Rhade, dammit, but somebody else could clean Rhade’s things out. There might even be something valuable they could use.

Turning, he watched Harper attaching clear plasteel to the sides of a narrow bed while Beka assisted. Or rather, while Beka judged the appropriate height for a two-year-old Lea’s size. Lea watched from Trance’s lap, obviously completely baffled, but evidently entertained. 

The only crewmembers not in his quarters at the moment were Rev and Tyr. While he was grateful for that, the rest of them were starting to wear on his nerves. "Beka, if you and Tyr would see to cleaning out Rhade’s quarters, I’d be very grateful."

She looked up from holding the plasteel steady. "Yeah? Okay. Can we sell anything useful?"

"Of course." He smiled edgily, moved to crouch beside Trance. "Hey," he said softly, and Lea looked at him, eyes almost comically startled. He imitated Harper, held out one finger. She looked up at Trance, who smiled encouragingly at her and nodded. "Lea," he said and she looked at him, offered him a very Harperish shy smile. She had the same chin as Harper and feathery crazy hair a darker blonde than Harper’s. The genetic trick of recessives, and she had ended up with eyes as blue as his, as Harper’s. He tried to remember how many generations Captain Tregozzi had listed, thought it was seven. His seventh, no, sixth great granddaughter, and that rocked him, saddened him, made him angry all over again.

Miriam, he thought and Lea’s fingers closed tentatively over his. He smiled encouragingly, rubbed his thumb over them. Her grip was alarmingly weak, even for a small child. "Can she sit up by herself, Trance?"

"No." Trance smoothed the flyaway hair again. "Not yet. Rommie says the neural damage should begin to mend in the next ten days, but we’ll have to figure out a physical therapy regime to help her relearn motor skills. She’s really bright, though, Dylan. She takes everything in, she kept pointing at things and trying to ask me about them. I’ll bet she learns Common in no time."

"I hope so." He tried to imagine it, having lived an entire short life surrounded by familiar faces and suddenly thrust into a new world where no one and nothing was familiar. "Is it time for her to eat again?"

"Probably soon." Trance smiled at him. "I have to sort of coax her. Rommie’s cooked up some special things meant to help her absorb nutrients more effectively until the therapy’s done its work."

"Is she still feverish?" The small fingers felt warm, but it was hard to tell. 

Trance pressed her fingers to Lea’s cheek. "Maybe a little. I’ll get a reader when I go get her food." She looked at him. "You want to hold her?"

He nearly fell backwards on his heels. "Ah, I don’t think so. She’s been happy with you, Trance."

"Oh, she won’t bite, Dylan." She smiled at Lea. "And Dylan won’t bite, either." She rose, dimpled at Dylan. "Here, sit here. If she gets upset, I’ll take her back."

His fingers felt cold where Lea had gripped them. He sat, feeling foolish and very certain that Lea would howl, and if that sent Harper running again, he was going to be very upset. 

Lea was wide-eyed during the transfer, very wide-eyed, but evidently she remembered his earlier efforts to calm her. Trance crouched and beamed at her. "There you go, Lea. I’m going to get your food and your things so you’ll have a nice cozy place here."

Dylan put his hand on Lea’s middle, smiled nervously when she looked up at him doubtfully. "We’ll wait right here."

"I’ll be right back," Trance said seriously. To the child, not to him. "Okay?"

Lea made a small sound that hinted of agreement.

Another smile and Trance left them.

"So," Dylan said, "That’s going to be your bed while you’re here, Lea."

She looked at him, then at the bed. He could swear she found the whole thing very dubious.

"You need some padding now," Beka said firmly. "So she doesn’t whack her head when she’s asleep."

"Jeez, Beka, she’s two years old." Harper sank back on his heels. "We’ll put bedding in it, it’s not like it’s going to stay this bare."

"I suppose. A kid needs toys. What are we going to do for toys?" Beka brightened. "We aren’t going off after the Falco. I can trade some of the stuff next door for some goodies."

Dylan listened with a distant kind of horror.

"Hey, I can get my own kid some toys." Harper sounded irritated and surprised at the same time.

Beka grinned. "Well, Aunt Beka can spare a few thrones in the cause."

Dear god, Dylan thought, deeper and deeper, and she even _looked_ like Harper, and what in the name of all that was holy was he going to do with this child?

As if she could hear him thinking, Lea looked up, made an interrogative sound and pointed at Harper. "Abba?"

Abba. Dylan’s throat went tight again. He nodded, touched the soft, silky hair. "That’s right, Lea." The truth was about all he could offer her at the moment. The future was still too damned confused to offer anything else.

  


* * *

Somehow, Lea had decided they weren’t bad people and had gone to sleep in her bed without more than a few complaints. It had helped that her grandmother had included a shapeless stuffed something in her bag that was evidently a favorite of Lea’s; she’d brightened and crowed when Harper had pulled it out of the overstuff bag.

He was so sunk. He really was. Leaning over the foot of the plasteel sided bed, Harper watched her breathe nervously.

"I think she’s asleep," Dylan said softly.

Harper turned. "Yeah, but what if she stops breathing. I mean, she’s sick."

Dylan gave him a long-suffering look. "She’s not that sick, Harper, or the whole crew would be camping out on med-deck. Well, you, me, Trance and probably Beka."

He grinned a little. "There is that, yeah." He looked back. "Man, she’s so _little_. I can’t get over it."

Dylan smiled tiredly. "We were all that little once."

Harper turned away from the crib. "I was. I don’t believe _you_ ever were."

This time, Dylan’s grin was livelier. "I was, I promise."

That grin lured him, as it always had. He followed Dylan back over to the bedroom side, sat down next to him. "Look, I’m sorry."

Dylan arched an eyebrow. "For what?"

He felt awkward suddenly. "I know I’ve been... kind of a jerk. In the officers’ mess."

Dylan blinked, laughed softly. "Harper, do you remember me saying that there are no--"

"Secrets, yeah. But I didn’t have to, like, advertise it." Harper grimaced.

"Quit worrying about that." Dylan leaned in, kissed him. 

That felt good. Really good. He’d spent so much of the day tensed up, he’d forgotten how good. He pushed Dylan backward, put his entire self into reminding Dylan how good it felt, and Dylan’s arms went around him.

Long and slow and lazy, and he found himself wondering if Dylan could be very, very quiet. 

Heh.

So, he managed to get rid of his boots, and then Dylan’s and then there was some more just plain nice making out, and Dylan didn’t seem to be entirely sure this was a good idea, so he launched a pre-emptive strike by getting his hand into Dylan’s pants.

"This isn’t a good idea," Dylan whispered, but his hips arched up anyway. "Harper--"

"Shhhhhh," Harper said and slid down to work Dylan’s pants the rest of the way open. Dylan shifted, gasped when Harper pulled him free. "Shhhhh." Nice and hard for him, and oh, yeah, maybe this was a good way to remind Dylan how good it could be.

Dylan’s fingers tightened in his hair. "No," Hoarse whisper. "God, she’ll wake up--shower."

Well, that was okay, too. He gave Dylan a little lick, and Dylan’s fingers tightened briefly before releasing him.

He sat up, Dylan rolled off the bed and grabbed him; he had to bite his lip to keep from cracking up as Dylan fairly dragged him into the bathroom.

The door closed, and Dylan pressed him against it, kissed him long and hot and hard, and oh, yeah, definitely, but who was reminding whom? Whom, as Trance would say. He tilted his head back as Dylan swallowed him down, moaned in his throat and managed to say, "This isn’t the shower."

Dylan ignored this, somehow managed to work his pants all the way down while sucking him, and damn, he loved Dylan’s ability to multitask. It would have been a damn shame if only one of them had been good at it.

Speaking of which--he managed to get his shirt off, put his fingers into Dylan’s hair. 

  


* * *

By their fifth day out of Seneschal, the gene therapy showed a strongly positive result; Lea was also learning Common at an alarming rate. And as she became more comfortable with them, she _used_ Common at an alarming rate.

In short, she talked as much as Harper. To all of them. Even to Tyr, who regarded her with a mixture of amusement, what appeared to be kindness, and visible envy. In a mixture of Chari and Common.

Dylan refused to take Tyr’s reaction to the child at face value; Tyr was Nietzschean, and if Tyr _had_ offspring, the chances were that he’d have been perfectly happy to toss Lea out an airlock if it meant his offspring would thrive. Which was cynical, but then, he wasn’t an idiot, and he’d learned from his dealings with Nietzscheans. He hoped.

Unfortunately, gaining fluency in Common didn’t mean that her soft palate allowed real accuracy in pronunciation. She gave the L in Dylan’s name an almost Castilian sound, Harper was either Hopper or Abba, and Beka was, in fact, the only crew member who was addressed by her own name.

It was funny to watch Tyr react to being called Two, however inappropriate it seemed to have a child on board.

He did have to admit, things went more smoothly with a child who wasn’t either ill or unhappy, but the fact that she _was_ aboard Andromeda continued to niggle at him.

Not that anyone else seemed to care.

He had to make a decision one way or another about what to do, but it was proving uncharacteristically difficult to do.

Even when she woke up regularly in the middle of the night and wanted to talk.

"Abba! Dylan!" 

Dylan kept his eyes closed, elbowed Harper. "She’s your kid."

Harper elbowed him back. "Yours too, you said so." Blearily.

There was that.

Dylan groaned and pushed himself upright. "This has got to stop. She’s worse than you on a Sparky binge."

"Stop making her take naps."

"Nobody makes her take naps. She crashes right on the floor." 

There was a rustling sound, by which he assumed Harper had again put the pillows over his head.

Sighing, he got up and padded around the room divider. The healthier Lea got, the more she tried to stretch her limitations, and he had to admire the fact that she’d managed to pull herself up on unsteady legs.

Bright-eyed and delighted smile. "Dylan!"

He folded his arms. "Lea, it’s time to sleep."

The delighted smile faded. "Nooooo." Mournful tone.

He could have sworn he heard Harper snicker. "Yes," he said firmly. Then, to Harper, "You’re cutting that door tomorrow."

"Don’t wanna sleep." She tilted her head, beamed at him again. "Story."

Dylan closed his eyes. This, he thought wearily, is what came of getting caught on an event horizon. The universe mocked, and small children refused to obey. "No story, Lea, it’s time to sleep."

Her lower lip quivered. 

Dear god. He went to his desk and found the book Beka had gotten Lea on Seneschal. Turned the sound feature off and brought it back. It had no small pieces that might be swallowed, and Lea was learning how to operate it even more quickly than she was learning Common.

He darkly supposed that one day they’d find she’d taken it apart and rebuilt it.

"Here. You can look at your book, but you have to be quiet so other people can sleep."

She beamed at him. "Okay."

He eyed her, put the book in the crib and laid her back down. She didn’t argue, only grabbed her book and began pressing the controls with scary accuracy. "Palimari!"

He glanced at the animated picture. "Palimari. Quietly, Lea."

"Quiet." she agreed sunnily. "Night night, Dylan."

Dylan sighed, felt his mouth curve in spite of himself. "Good night, Lea." He twitched a blanket over her, not that it was likely to stay there these days. Returning to bed, he lay back, considered elbowing Harper again. "Tomorrow."

"‘bout time," Harper said drowsily and burrowed in against him.

Okay, so maybe he wouldn’t elbow Harper. It was hardly Harper’s fault that there was a manic two-year-old on the other side of the divider.

He took in a breath, let it out and closed his eyes.

And became aware that a very small voice on the other side of his quarters was telling the story of Palimari and the Gekoshi in great detail.

He elbowed Harper after all, and pulled the pillows over _his_ head with a groan.

  


* * *

"So?" Beka was no help at all. "What _are_ you going to do with her if she doesn’t stay here? We’ve already gone over the family thing, and that’s not going to happen. Are you going to turn her over to the government agencies on the next planet we visit?"

Dylan scowled at Beka. "A child has no place on a warship."

Beka nodded. "But like Rommie said, she’s not just a warship any more. She’s a traveling peacekeeper slash ambassador for the Commonwealth slash home to all of us."

"We can’t run a nursery on Andromeda." Did his voice lack conviction? He was afraid it did.

"Why? She’s doing perfectly well so far. What’s it been? Almost eighteen days, and she’s improved amazingly. She’s walking on her own, and my god, talking up a storm, and she adores Trance and Rev. Let’s not forget to mention she adores Abba and Dylan." Beka waggled her eyebrows. "And of course, she has the inestimable good sense to pay attention when Aunt Beka gives her advice."

"Don’t let it go to your head," Dylan muttered.

Wicked grin. "Even Tyr isn’t quite as annoying with her as he is with the rest of us."

"She’s a _child_."

Beka tilted her head. "Afraid you can’t handle her?"

"Don’t be ridiculous." He scowled again.

"So, I’m back to my original question, what are you going to do with her?" Beka arched one eyebrow.

He sighed. "I don’t know." Brooded over it.

"If you do get rid of her, I hope you know, Harper will go, too."

That brought his head up. "What?"

"He won’t want to, but he won’t do to another child what he went through." Beka’s tone was mild, but her expression was somber. "You know that, Dylan. If you know him, you know that."

"Beka, I can’t--" He stopped. Dammit, she was probably right. Unless he could convince Harper it was for the best, and did he really feel that was right? Did he genuinely believe that?

There was the rub, he couldn’t be sure. And he couldn’t be sure if that was the simple trickery of biology and evolution and small, squashed looking faces triggering protective instincts, or if it was merely decency and affection and what difference did it make in the long run? "Well, there’s no reason for us to rush to a decision," he finally said lamely.

"None at all," Beka agreed.

If she’d smirked or laughed, he would have throttled her, but there was a shadow behind her eyes that said she really did understand the quandary, even if she had her own strong opinion about what should be done.

It let him keep his temper. "Ready to take over?"

"Aye, aye." Cheerful again, Beka grinned, took his place in the pilot’s chair. "Go have a look at Lea’s new quarters. You should have seen Trance and Harper getting down to eye level and going over it for hazards to the young. Rommie assisted, of course, but they were amazingly thorough."

Dylan blinked, smiled faintly. "I wouldn’t have thought of that."

"You might have." Beka winked. "You’ve got a good head on those broad shoulders."

"Very funny." But he was smiling as he went back to his quarters.

The door to Lea’s quarters was operating, and Harper had completely sealed the outer door to the corridor. He had to approve of that, given Lea’s explorative instincts. He pressed the control pad and the door opened to reveal two adults and a child crawling around on the carpet.

Trance giggled and sank back on her heels. "Physical therapy, Dylan," she said.

"For whom?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Funny guy," Harper said, from his hands and knees. "Lea thinks it’s pretty funny, too."

Lea promptly pushed herself back to sit. "Dylan!"

"Lea!" He walked over and crouched. "You like your room?"

She grinned, held her arms up to be lifted; he obliged and looked around the room. The desk and console that had been Rhade’s were still there, but otherwise, the room had been... reimagined.

There were even a few of Trance’s plants hanging in the corners.

Trance followed his gaze. "Nothing toxic," she said cheerfully, "Even if she could get up there to eat them."

"She’s smarter than that," Harper said, and stood up, stretched to work a kink out of his back. "Aren’t you, kid."

"Yes!" Lea beamed at him.

Balancing Lea on his arm, Dylan stood up again, studied the desk and console. "What about that?"

"We couldn’t find anything there that could hurt her," Harper said cheerfully. "And since it’s built into the floor, more or less, I figured it was just as easy to leave it. She likes to play under yours."

Dylan nodded absently. "You got rid of the chair, good thinking."

"Well, after she tried to climb yours the other day," Harper said, "I figured it was safest."

"Down, please?" Lea smiled winningly at him. 

He obliged and she grabbed his leg, hauled herself to her feet. Harper’s gaze suddenly fixed on her and Trance seemed to hold her breath. 

"I can do it," Lea said, almost to herself. "I can do it."

Dylan’s throat was abruptly too tight. "Sure you can," he said softly.

She let go of his leg and toddled shakily over to Harper, crowed with delight and threw her arms around Harper’s legs. Harper ruffled her hair, but didn’t pick her up; it struck Dylan suddenly that Harper _didn’t_ pick her up. Harper played with her, built things for her, and talked to her, and Harper would fight for her with the same ferociously protective interest he showed the people who entered the circle of those Harper loved, but he didn’t pick her up. Didn’t hold her.

"You did it," Harper told her cheerfully. "That’s terrific."

Lea tipped her head back, held one arm up. "Up, Abba?" Hopeful tone.

Harper ruffled her hair again, opened his mouth and closed it. "Let’s see if you can walk back to Dylan."

From where he stood, Dylan could see her face fall. "Okay."

Harper looked at Dylan, looked back down at Lea and swallowed hard. Lea let go of Harper’s legs and started back to Dylan. He crouched, then, appalled and worried and not sure _what_ the hell was going on, and some of the light came back to her face, she made it back on little legs that were finally beginning to work the way they should and threw her arms around his neck.

"Good job," he said, "Ready to go again?"

"Okay!" She beamed at him and looked back at Harper. Seemed to consider, and aimed herself at Trance, who caught her up when she succeeded.

"Oh, you’re getting so good at that," Trance told her merrily and set her on her feet again. "Do you want to practice again?"

Harper’s expression was--conflicted. "Give it a try, Lea."

Lea gave him a long look. A very serious look for a toddler to wear, and it made Dylan uneasy. "Okay." That small chin, so very like Harper’s, came up and she unerringly walked straight to her father. She tipped her head back to look up at him for a very long moment.

Dylan couldn’t prevent himself from saying it. "She may not give you another chance." Very softly. Very, very softly. But Harper heard him, he saw the flinch. Wished he hadn’t said it.

And then, "Abba," Lea said and there was some uncertainty there; Harper scooped her up, and she laughed, delighted and giddy, even when he pretended to let her fall backwards.

Trance sighed, gave Dylan a relieved look.

He still didn’t understand what had just happened, but whatever it was, it was done. Over. And nothing unpleasant had come of it.

Or so he thought.

  


* * *

Harper was in the machine shop when the K’ray began their very impressive attempt to take the ship. The first volley knocked him off his feet, which was alarming enough, and he hit his console buttons bringing up the display. Damage control, dammit, and he hoped to god Trance and the kid were going to be okay.

It wasn’t like having Lea on board made anything any worse; he even had a vague affection for Tyr, he didn’t want _any_ of them hurt, dammit, and somebody was fucking with his ship.

Dylan’s ship. What the hell, maybe it was all of theirs now, and he grabbed a few extra tools and headed toward command deck.

It was mostly over but the shouting by the time he got there, and Dylan looked both angry and, to somebody who knew him pretty well, a little shaken.

"Take them out," Dylan growled at Tyr. "As quickly as possible."

"Uh, Dylan, the K’ray don’t exactly forget a grudge." Beka was in the pilot’s seat. "And they aren’t going to want to negotiate if you wipe out half their fleet."

"This isn’t half their fleet," Dylan snapped. "It’s a strike force, and I was dealing with the K’ray three hundred years ago before we got them into the first Commonwealth. Tyr, you have your orders."

Tyr nodded and attended to his weapons console, targeting and firing with cool precision.

Harper nodded at Dylan and Beka as he went by and swung himself into the accessway.

"They’re hailing us," Rommie said. "Not the strike force, but the lead warship."

"Let them sweat." Dylan growled. "Tyr, hold fire."

There were several boards shorted to hell and back, their shields were Swiss cheese until those were fixed, and he was just damn glad that the AG field was still in operation. Grimly, Harper began working; this was going to take a while and he was damn glad that they’d managed to lay in a supply of spare components while at Seneschal.

It took a lot longer than he would have liked, and he emerged to find Dylan trading glares with a K’ray. At least he supposed the K’ray was glaring, given Dylan’s expression.

"Close the link, Rommie," Dylan grated. 

The screen went blank and Dylan turned to Rommie. "Status?"

"Good. Harper’s worked very quickly. There are some boards and controllers in the core that should be checked, I’m getting intermittent surges there."

Harper nodded. "Yeah, on my way."

Dylan nodded at him, turned to Rev. "Rev, I want identification of that debris. As soon as possible."

Harper headed off command deck, found Trance halfway to the core. She was carrying Lea, whose face was tearstained. "She got scared," Trance told him comfortably. "But she’s fine, Harper, don’t look that way."

"Abba!" Lea held her arms out for him and it was like a knife in the heart.

"Can’t, Lea mia, gotta get some work done." But he let her hug his neck. "You stay with Trance, I’ll be right back, okay?"

Lea sniffled. "‘Kay."

He grinned, nodded at Trance. "Thanks, Trance. I mean it."

Trance beamed at him. "I thought maybe she’d feel a little happier in her quarters until things settle."

"Good idea. He continued on his way, and his stomach had suddenly knotted. But he wasn’t going to think about why that was, he was going to focus on what needed to be done.

He’d face it later. When he had to.

By the time he’d finished repairs, two hours had passed. "Rommie, how’s it feel now?"

Her hologram appeared before him. "Good, Harper. Good work." She shimmered briefly. "Dylan wants you on command deck."

"Something I missed?" He pushed his goggles up wearily.

"Not that I know of." She winked out. He cursed under his breath, started for command deck.

Dylan gave him a long look when he got there. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah," he said shortly. "Here?"

"Fine." Dylan looked away. "Good. Good. Beka, you have the con." He looked back at Harper. "Walk with me."

Not a good sign. But he walked, and Dylan walked, and Dylan didn’t say anything. At least not until they reached the door of Dylan’s quarters. 

"Lea’s okay?" Dylan still wasn’t looking at him.

He was looking at Dylan, though, and Dylan looked... not mad, but unhappy. "Yeah, she’s fine. The shake-up spooked her, but she was fine. Trance took care of her."

Dylan nodded, opened the door. "We need to talk."

"About what?" Harper hoped it wasn’t what he thought. What he feared.

"About Lea." Dylan turned to look at him directly.

What he saw was fear and grim determination and he swore he could feel his heart break. "What about Lea?"

Dylan closed his eyes briefly. "Harper, she can’t stay on Andromeda."

"Where else does she have?" He was going to fight, he had to. Had to try. "She has to stay here."

"She’s at risk here."

"And she’s not at risk in some goddamn foster home? Some orphanage? I’ve seen some of those places on different planets. She’s not any worse off here than she was on the Falco. Better, she’s healthy, she’s not slowly starving to death with her nervous system slowly being poisoned." He was fighting for his life, for everything he wanted, for everything he needed. "Listen to me, dammit, you don’t _know_ this universe, Dylan, I do."

Dylan’s expression went closed, shuttered.

That was it then. "Okay, next port, we’ll get off. Whatever." He turned toward Lea’s door. "I’ll get her out of your hair, there’s no reason for her to be in there, I’ll take her to my quarters."

"Harper!" There was pain and anger added to the fear. "This isn’t what I want!"

"Then don’t do it." He didn’t dare look at Dylan. He’d known the moment he held Lea he wasn’t going to let her down, not the way he’d been let down. He’d known, it was why he’d been so reluctant.

"I don’t know what else to do." Almost a whisper. He couldn’t let it move him. Couldn’t. "Don’t--god."

"I don’t want this either," Harper flared and turned around. "God, don’t you _know_ that? None of this is the kid’s fault, she deserves better. And I’m going to figure out how to get it for her."

Dylan turned away, sat down brokenly in the nearest chair. 

Harper shook his head, blinked hard and went in to get Lea.

  


* * *

Dylan was unsurprised when Beka arrived at his door. He was two drinks into his bottle of fabulously expensive and rare Scotch and trying to decide if it was time for a third. 

"Where’s Harper?" Beka’s expression was wary.

"He was going to take Lea to his quarters, but he decided that would upset her, so he’s camping out in there." He gestured vaguely.

"What happened?"

Dylan sank back into his chair again. "Have a drink, Beka."

"I don’t think so." Beka eyed him, sat down in the chair opposite. "You told him that Lea can’t stay on the Andromeda."

"I think I’ll have one," Dylan said, ignoring this. He poured another few fingers of Scotch, splashed a little. Damn. "Yes, that’s what I told him."

Beka’s expression was uninformative. "And he said?"

"He said he would take Lea off at our next port." The Scotch was really very good. He would have to remember to thank Harper again.

"Dylan, I realize you’re trying hard to do the right thing, which is the only reason I’m not kicking you in the head." Beka rested her elbows on the table. "I grew up on a ship, Dylan. I grew up on the Maru, and believe me, the Maru wasn’t terrifically safe, either. By contrast, Harper lived planetside and lost his entire family."

Dylan’s hand paused in the act of lifting the glass. "Beka, we were just under attack."

She nodded. "Yeah, and life _is_ dangerous, Dylan. Comets hit planets. Magog hit planets. At least in space it’s harder to hit a moving target."

He hesitated. Drank. "I admit, I don’t know what’s best." Driven to that confession by the ache in his chest.

"That’s a first." Beka sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Think about what I just said, Dylan. Weigh it carefully. Because I have to tell you something, and I’m not trying to manipulate you. Harper’s family. The kid is family. I’m not letting him just go off with her without some backup."

It was frightening, how much relief he felt about that, even while everything in him resisted letting _anyone_ go.

Not that he controlled that. Not, he was beginning to realize, that he controlled much of anything.

Not even himself.

"Trance will stay, and probably Rev and Tyr. I’m sorry, Dylan."

At least Harper wouldn’t be out there alone with Lea. At least he’d have that reassurance. 

At least.

The pain increased and he swallowed the Scotch, heedless of taste, heedless of savoring it. Put the glass down and put his hands over his face. "I can’t do this." He whispered it. "I can’t."

"What, Dylan?" Gentle voice, unwontedly gentle. "What can’t you do?"

Too much Scotch. "I can’t let them go. I have to let them go."

Beka leaned forward suddenly, cupped one hand over his. "No, you don’t have to let them go. They’re safer if you don’t."

"Do you really believe that?"

Beka’s smile was humourless. "I know that. Even on the Maru--you know damn well that Andromeda makes the Maru look like a rations can. And would you rather Lea was back on the Falco? Dying by inches instead of a happy, healthy kid?"

"Of course not!" 

"She wasn’t in any less danger there, Dylan, believe me. Half the universe knows that the Tregozzis are the wealthiest traders outside of the Trade Alliance. They’ve been hit by pirates half a dozen times that _I_ know of, and I didn’t know who the hell they were until lately."

Dylan rubbed his face with both hands, raked fingers through his hair. "I’d better talk to him."

"Yeah, I’d suggest that." Beka patted his cheek. "If you need any help, let me know. I’ll leave you to it." 

"Yeah." He waited until she left, then got to his feet. He hadn’t eaten anything, and the scotch had gone to his head, but he suddenly felt clearer.

Beka was right. He, unfortunately, was wrong. Now he just had to convince Harper to stay.

  


* * *

Harper had fed Lea, wrestled her into her sleeper, and was finishing the last connection on a game he was building for the kid. "Okay, there ya go, Lea mia." He put the electronic game on the floor, turned it on. "See the colored buttons? Press one of them." 

Lea came over with her stuffed whatever it was under her arm. "What it does, Abba?"

"Press it and see." He ruffled her hair. 

Crouching, Lea did, laughed in delight as the game sounded a tone and then lit up another button with another tone.

"Quick, do it again, and get the next one," Harper told her.

Giggling, Lea did. The sequence repeated and then added another color and tone. Lea chortled and sat down on the floor hard, managed to catch on and repeat again.

Harper grinned at her delight, even if that grin was hard to sustain.

The door to Dylan’s quarters opened. He glanced over his shoulder, sighed. Dylan looked like _he_ felt. "Hey," he said, "Lea’s learning a new game."

Lea looked up. "Dylan, come see!" 

She’d lost the sequence, so Harper slapped the right button and Lea laughed, caught up and got the next one.

Dylan came over to crouch beside Lea. His hand came out to touch her hair. "It’s certainly colorful." He swayed a little, sank back on his heels.

Harper sighed. He could smell scotch, however faintly. It didn’t help to know that Dylan was hurting as bad as he was. It didn’t help to know that Dylan was trying to do the right thing. But getting mad wouldn’t help. So he was trying really hard. "What do you want, Dylan?"

Dylan didn’t look at him. "I came to tell you I was wrong. To ask you to stay."

"What about Lea?"

Lea, thank whatever, wasn’t paying attention, she was gleefully slapping buttons, missed on and got a honk as the game came to an end.

"Ooops, you missed one, Lea mia." Harper grinned at her. "Hit the middle button and start again."

Instead, Lea tilted her head back to look at Dylan. "Dylan can play, too."

"Both of you," Dylan told Harper, then ruffled Lea’s hair. "Not tonight, baby, I’m too slow."

Too drunk, maybe, Harper thought. "Just like that?"

"No, not just like that." Dylan’s temper flared. "I was wrong, Harper. Isn’t that good enough?"

There was a small kernel of hurt still inside him. "Sure, for now. What about next time? I can’t do that, Dylan. I can’t."

Dylan closed his eyes, looked away. Lea looked from Dylan to Harper and back again and her lower lip began to quiver. "Why you sad, Dylan?"

In answer, Dylan pulled her into his lap. "I’m okay, Lea." Hoarsely. He looked at Harper, eyes too bright. "It’s not going to happen again. I just--Harper, I just wanted her safe. I want her safe. But I want you safe, too, and I can’t control everything in the universe, I don’t fucking know what to do."

"Fucking?" Lea clambered on Dylan’s legs.

"Now look what you’ve done," Harper said, half-appalled, half-amused.

"That’s a bad word," Dylan told her.

"Why?" Lea studied Dylan. "You say it."

Dylan sighed. "I was bad. Don’t _you_ say it."

She regarded him thoughtfully. "Okay."

Harper narrowed his eyes. "He means it. And so do I. Don’t you say it."

She gave him a merry little smile. "Okay."

He knew that smile, he’d used it himself. "Good. Now, it’s time for bed. Give Dylan his hug and c’mere."

Her head was moving from side to side before she even wrapped her arms around Dylan’s neck. "No bed. No bed."

Dylan hugged her hard. "Maybe just a little longer?" Looked over the top of her head at Harper.

Like he could resist that look. From either of them. "Okay, just a little bit longer." He growled it. 

Lea pulled away to wrinkle her nose at Dylan. "Stinky."

Dylan grimaced. "Ah, the scotch."

Harper couldn’t repress a grin. "Hey, kid, that’s the rarest thing he owns, no disrespect."

"No, it’s not." Dylan gave him a long look that untied the knots in his belly. 

"Owned?" He arched an eyebrow. "Owned?"

"Figuratively speaking." Dylan kept looking at him. 

He had to swallow hard. "We’re not going anywhere," he muttered.

Dylan hugged Lea again. "Where’s your book, Lea?"

"Palimari!" Lea scrambled out of Dylan’s lap and scampered around the room divider.

Dylan kept looking at him. Sighing, Harper knee-walked over, put his own arms around Dylan’s neck, was caught and held almost too tightly. "Thank you," Dylan whispered. 

He rubbed his cheek against Dylan’s hair. "Like I wanted to go." Roughly.

"I know." Dylan’s arms loosened enough to let him draw back a little. "But still."

"Sometimes, for a smart guy, you’re pretty dumb, Dylan." He said it seriously, meaning it.

"Sometimes." Dylan’s mouth curved a little. "Fortunately, not always."

"Yeah." 

"Hey!" Lea’s tone was indignant. "No kissing. Story time!"

"Brat," Harper said and shifted. "He was mine first."

"Mine, too," Lea said and giggled.

And really, that much was true. If only he could be sure that Dylan was serious, that it wasn’t just the scotch and the sadness talking. And see, that was where things had gotten out of hand, dammit. He’d gotten used to knowing that things were steady. He’d gotten fucking spoiled.

And then Lea had come along and blown everything he’d come to trust to hell. Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely fair. 

He got up when Lea sat down in Dylan’s lap, took care of stowing Lea’s toys properly. Dylan’s voice was low and a little blurred--he wondered just how much of the scotch was left and felt both annoyance and amusement.

It was sort of weird, feeling like the smart one in this relationship. It was... bittersweet. Very. 

With Lea’s toys put away, he came over to listen to the end of the story. "Bedtime," he said, when Dylan turned the book off. "Give Dylan another hug and let’s go."

Lea looked up at him, and apparently decided surrender was the wisest option. "Okay." She climbed onto Dylan’s leg and hugged hard.

Kids could sense undercurrents, he remembered that a little too well. Scooping Lea up, he hugged her, pretended to rub his beard stubble on her neck and got very satisfactory giggles.

"Say goodnight, Dylan."

"Night, Dylan," she caroled happily and waved over Harper’s shoulder as he carried her to bed, but she held on to Harper’s neck when he tried to put her in the crib. "Dylan is sad?" A sort of stage whisper.

"He was. I think he’s fine now, Lea mia." Harper unwound one small arm. "Don’t worry, he’ll be fine."

"Abba is sad?" she wanted to know and rewrapped the first arm when he started on the second.

"I was a little sad," he agreed. "Sometimes that happens. But it’s okay, Lea."

She studied his face for a very long minute. "Okay." And just that easily, she let him put her down.

He was soooooo doomed. On two counts, now, and that was fucking scary. But he leaned down and kissed Lea’s forehead anyway. "You go to sleep now."

Blissful smile and she hugged her... whatever it was.

He tugged the blanket over her, turned back toward Dylan, who was leaning against the divider. Awkward moment, at least it felt that way to him, but then it felt normal, mostly, and they got the lights and went through into Dylan’s quarters.

"Did you eat anything before you hit the scotch?" he asked Dylan, trying to keep the snarkiness out of his voice.

"No." Dylan offered him a rueful look. "Sorry. For all of it. I--the K’ray spooked me, I guess."

"I figured that." Harper roamed the room a little aimlessly.

"Harper?" Dylan’s expression was... too damn vulnerable. "Are we okay?"

He sighed, rubbed his chin. "I’m trying, okay? But what’s going to happen the next time you get spooked, Dylan? I can’t go back and forth and back and forth. I can’t... I can’t rip myself apart every time you get spooked. Do you even _get_ why I have to leave if you decide Lea can’t stay? Do you _get_ why that’s like cutting my own heart out with a fucking rusty spoon?" Angry tone, and he’d sworn he wasn’t going to go there, but it was bubbling up anyway. 

"I think so." Hoarsely. "Because it felt the same way telling you that she couldn’t stay. Harper, Beka warned me a while back that if it came to that, you’d go, too. I didn’t believe her, not entirely, but--look, I was scared." Dylan raked a hand through his hair, looked away. "I’m used to feeling that for my crew, and I’ve learned to live with feeling it for all of you at times. But Lea--dammit, do _you_ get that I’m trying to do the right thing for her, too? She’s--it’s like I have the chance to keep her safe in a way that didn’t exist for you, I have the chance to make her life better than yours was until you got off planet."

It defused some of Harper’s temper. "Dylan, you can’t make those decisions because bad shit happened to me. That’s not fair to _anybody_ , not Lea, not me, and not you."

"Yeah. Yeah, I see that." Dylan walked toward the bed, sank down on it. Rested his elbows on his knees and stared at his hands. "I do, Harper. I can’t tell you that I’m never going to get spooked again. I think I can promise you that I won’t be this stupid again."

"You think?" But Harper said it without the weight of anger. "C’mon, Dylan, you can do better than that."

"I’m not sure I can yet." Dylan looked at him, eyes shadowed. "But I’m working on it, Harper. I _can_ promise that."

Fair enough. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had a moment of panic thinking about Lea during the K’ray attack. He sat down next to Dylan. "Okay."

"Yeah?" Genuine anxiety.

Well, hell, Dylan was human; Harper leaned against him, bumped their shoulders. "Yeah." He put his arm around Dylan. "Just don’t be a jerk again. Because I mean it, Dylan, I can’t go back and forth. It’ll kill me."

Dylan leaned back into him. "Me, too." Almost a whisper.

They sat in silence like that for a moment. Not exactly perfect, but a helluva lot better than Harper had expected. "Food," he finally said and got up, leaned in to kiss Dylan’s mouth. "Lea’s right, you taste just a little too much like scotch."

Dylan’s mouth twitched. "I could brush my teeth."

"Good idea." He tugged a lock of Dylan’s hair. "By that time, I can probably throw some kind of sandwich together for you."

"No problem, especially if I get a reward." Dylan stood up, suddenly hugged him hard. "Dammit, I hope you don’t think that it was... that it was easy to think of losing you." Husky voice.

He didn’t think that. But he hadn’t been sure. Not really. So he hugged back. "Yeah, well, it’s still nice to hear it."

Another hug, another kiss, and he went back to figure out what kind of sandwich could be had.

It might not be complete reassurance, but Dylan had promised he was trying. And for now, that was good.

He hoped Dylan was trying hard. It wouldn’t be enough forever.

  


* * *

Dylan woke, wondered why, and then heard Lea’s voice over the comm connection they kept open at night. Harper slept on--the volume was very low, but still, Lea’s voice was oddly faint.

He was still spooked, he admitted to himself, spooked on all counts. Spooked by the K’ray, spooked by how closely he had come to smashing the good things in his personal life to hell, spooked by how nearly he had made a decision not only personally disastrous, but disastrous for the Andromeda.

Lea’s voice rose and fell, still fainter, more distant than he thought it should be. He frowned, carefully unwound himself from Harper’s sleeping self--but not without a kiss to Harper’s shoulder. Found a pair of sleep pants and slid them on.

Lea wasn’t upset, she sounded entirely _too_ cheerful, and he had the growing suspicion he knew why. There was something alarming about the fact that he was finding it easier to predict what kind of trouble could be caused by a two-year-old budding genius.

He didn’t doubt for a moment that his assessment was correct; Harper was fucking brilliant and without the advantages Lea would have. He’d be lucky if Lea didn’t take over the ship before she was ten.

He pressed the door control and my, wasn’t it interesting, one of the lights was on. The light, to be precise, that was behind the desk and console that had once been Rhade’s. There was no chair, of course, but there was a small person sitting happily on top of the desk, the console viewscreen turned so that a small person could see it.

Lea’s head turned. "Uh-oh."

Uh-oh, indeed. But it was all he could do not to simply burst out laughing. Which wouldn’t do. "Lea, Abba said to go to sleep."

She held her hands up almost prayerfully. "But I _did_. And then I woked up."

"You aren’t supposed to get out of bed when you wake up." He moved toward the desk, picked her up. "You’re supposed to stay _in_ bed."

"No book," she complained. 

She had a point. He leaned down and picked up the book, which was still on the chair where he’d left it earlier. "Well, we can fix that. How did you get out of your crib?"

"I climbeded." She gestured vaguely. "And then I slide down."

That, he considered, was faintly alarming. Either he was getting too old to be around children, he was getting more than ordinarily neurotic, or it really was possible for her to break her neck. "Don’t do that, Lea. Okay? I don’t want you to get hurt."

Heartfelt sigh. "But I woked up."

She definitely had Harper’s chin. "Don’t climb out. We’ll fix the bed, but little girls can get hurt climbing out." 

Another sigh. "Okay."

He put her back into bed, gave her the book. "Good girl."

She looked up at him, inexpressibly vulnerable, a hostage to fate and fortune. "You not sad now?"

It almost hurt. "No, baby, I’m not sad now."

"Good." She beamed at him.

"Try to go back to sleep, okay?" He leaned in, kissed her forehead, cupped that small, definite chin. "Please?"

She nodded. "I try."

"Good." He smiled, returned to the desk to turn out the light, and then to his own quarters.

Harper stirred when he got back into bed. "Whazzit?"

"Lea got out of her crib. Did you show her how to access the console?"

Harper rolled over, put an arm over him. Sighed. "Nope."

He kissed Harper’s temple, smiled unseen. "I didn’t think so."

"I better cut down the side of that crib tomorrow." Drowsy voice. "Don’ want her to break her neck."

"My very thought," Dylan agreed and closed his eyes. Maybe they weren’t hostages to fate and fortune. Maybe he was. Either way, he was grateful.

He would just have to get past all of this. He wasn’t going to lose either of them.

  


* * *

Dylan was still asleep when Harper woke up, and the chron showed that it was later than usual. Not that he minded. He’d worked hard the day before, and then weirdness after that... of course, the makeup sex was terrific. Makeup sex, as he was discovering, was always terrific, at least with Dylan. Of course, very few of their arguments had been as serious as yesterday’s problem, and even if he was still a little nervous about Dylan’s reaction to the next crisis, Dylan had given him a promise of sorts.

Dylan wasn’t prone to breaking promises. In fact, now that he thought about it, Dylan hadn’t broken a promise to him since he’d signed on the Andromeda, well before their relationship had changed. Part of that, of course, was that Dylan didn’t make promises lightly, something he appreciated.

Tugging the bedclothes back, he considered just how much he appreciated it. Of course, there was a lot of Dylan to appreciate, and not just physically, but at the moment he was paying attention to the physical. He knew every scar on Dylan’s body, every centimeter, and still, even asleep, it held the promise of discovery.

Heh. He drew a fingertip very lightly down Dylan’s lower belly, and Dylan made a faint sound in sleep. His eyes shifted beneath closed lids; he was dreaming, and that woke a spark of mischief in Harper. He slid down in the bed, ran that same fingertip over Dylan’s cock, drew his tongue over the head very lightly. It jumped slightly, began to flush and thicken, so he did it again, closed his lips over it.

Dylan came awake with a gasp, peered at him. "Brat." Husky with sleep.

Harper couldn’t quite smirk, so he hummed and Dylan put a hand in his hair, shuddered and arched his hips, hardening fast.

He loved that morning surge of testosterone. Oh, yeah, and Dylan seemed to be trying to decide if he could resist or not, so he did something with his tongue that generally took care of that indecision and oh, yeah, that worked, except not the way he wanted. Dylan pulled his hair a little harder and Harper lifted his head. "Ow!"

"Get up here." Huskier, but not with sleep.

"Bossy, aren’t you." But he slid up, was captured and held down and kissed very thoroughly. "Okay, forget I complained."

"I have." Dylan worked his way down one side of Harper’s throat and up the other, nipping and sucking, shifted again to lick Harper’s chest between his nipples before selecting one to torture. Harper shifted restlessly, wanting more, needing something he couldn’t define and then Dylan kissed the tormented nipple softly, wrote something on his chest with a forefinger. Something he knew.

Oh, fuck. He tugged Dylan by the hair back up to his mouth, pulled Dylan over on top of him and licked his way into Dylan’s mouth. Drew back to stare up at Dylan. "Don’t you ever be an asshole like that again." Growled it.

Dylan’s eyes widened slightly, and one corner of his mouth lifted. "I promised I’d try not to."

"Good." Harper bit Dylan’s chin. "So what are you waiting for, it’s my turn." It was very satisfying to watch Dylan’s pupils dilate. There was the usual scramble for the lube, and then lots and lots of teasing and making out, and thank whatever, there was no sound whatsoever from the one-way commlink with Lea’s room.

The usual wrestling match, nipping and kissing and he pushed Dylan down, just impaled himself, almost too fast. Heat and burn and then it was good, it was very good, and he rocked on Dylan, pushed his cock forward into Dylan’s fist, still slick with lube. He took his time, wanting... wanting everything, wanting it to last forever, and, god, they were both going to crash after, he was dripping sweat on Dylan’s chest by the time he felt his toes curling. A pre-emptive nova bomb strike, he thought, distantly hilarious, rested his hands on Dylan’s shoulders and took Dylan’s cry into his mouth, pushed his cock against slippery fingers and came hard, came for what felt like fucking forever, and then he was lying on Dylan’s chest, listening to the rapid thud of Dylan’s heartbeat, listening to the harsh sound of Dylan’s breathing.

"You," Dylan breathed and nuzzled his hair. "You amaze me."

Harper smiled against Dylan’s chest. "Because I’m so sensational?" He liked the rumble of laughter beneath his ear. They hadn’t laughed enough lately. Too much seriousness. Maybe it was the effect of being parental, who the hell knew. 

"That, too," Dylan agreed and rubbed the small of Harper’s back. "My god, she’s still asleep."

Harper grinned, lifted his head to rest his chin on his arm. "I noticed, believe me. It’s enough to make a guy change his mind about there not being a benevolent deity."

"Mmmhmmm." Dylan put an arm over him. "God, it’s late."

Harper smiled. It was a measure of how much Dylan had relaxed over the last year that he didn’t sound... horrified. A little regretful, maybe, but not horrified. Scary thought, they were rubbing off on each other. Heh.

Maybe not so scary. Who could tell.

Dylan shifted beneath him. "Shower?"

"Sounds good to me." Lazy or not, he did have some maintenance work to do, not to mention cutting down the side of the crib. "I’ll wash your back if you wash mine."

"I’ll wash more than your back," Dylan said, laughter in his tone.

"Ooooh, we’ll never get out of here," Harper told him, bit his chin and then rolled out of bed before Dylan could retaliate. "Time’s wasting, boss," he said smartly, grinned and bolted for the bathroom.

If Dylan could promise to try not to be an asshole again, he could sure as hell try to let it go. 

He damned well intended to try.

  


* * *

Lea was asleep on the floor, her blanket tangled around her legs and her... animal clutched against her chest.

Sighing, Dylan considered that, turned to look at Harper as Harper followed him in.

Harper raised an eyebrow, shook his head. "Brat." Softly.

Dylan rolled his eyes. 

Lea woke up between one breath and another, sat upright and blinked at them. "Oops."

Dylan had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. "Oops?"

Guilty look. "I woked up again."

"And climbed out," Dylan agreed. "And I told you not to."

"That was _not_ a Good Thing, Lea mia," Harper said mildly. "Dylan’s the captain, you’re s’posed to obey the captain."

Dylan bit hard again on his lip, didn’t dare look at Harper.

Lea blinked again. "Oh." Crestfallen.

"If you don’t obey the captain, he can put you in the brig," Harper added.

"Harper!" Dylan finally risked looking at him. "Stop that!"

"What is brig?" Lea rubbed a fist in one eye.

Harper eyed her. "For you, right in here. That means you can’t go help Trance or keep Rev company, or come to the machine shop with me."

Lea considered that and her lower lip quivered. "I be good." Very small voice.

Dylan opened his mouth, closed it. Glared at Harper. "I just don’t want you to get hurt, Lea."

"Me, either," Harper said and went to lift her. "So don’t climb out anymore. Abba’s going to cut the side down so you don’t have to, but until I get to it, you stop."

"Okay." Still quivery. "No brig?" 

Harper arched an eyebrow at Dylan. "Captain?"

"Of course not," Dylan said, trying to keep annoyance out of his voice. He managed to keep it out during breakfast, but once Trance had appeared and taken Lea with her to hydroponics, he scowled at Harper. "That wasn’t very nice."

"Are you going to hit her? I know I can’t." Bluntly. "Gotta have something."

Dylan scowled again. "I can see we need to consult Rommie on child psychology."

"Good luck." Harper grinned, picked up his mug. "Besides, you _are_ the captain."

"Funny guy," Dylan growled, but Harper did have a point. He didn’t believe in hitting, and he was certain Harper would cut off his hands before raising one to Lea, and she was just too damn smart and curious. Not every danger in Lea’s universe came from outside the Andromeda, but at least those they could do something about.

Assuming she didn’t outthink them. "Fair enough," he finally grumbled. "But if this is that good cop/bad cop thing you told Trance about, you get to be bad cop sometimes."

"Naturally." Harper leaned in, kissed his mouth briefly. "I’ll see ya later. Got maintenance to do and then I’m revamping the kid’s bed."

Dylan pulled him back, kissed him again. "Stay out of trouble."

"I usually do." Wicked grin and Harper was gone.

Dylan left the debris of breakfast for the cleaning ‘bots and went to command deck, thinking about engineering problems he usually left to Harper. 

It was one thing to worry about adults who had signed on freely. It was entirely another to worry about Lea.

If he was going to avoid being an asshole again, as Harper put it, he was going to have to come up with some ways to ease his mind and worries, some ways that hadn’t seemed as urgent when he was _only_ worried about his crew.

A good practical assault on his own fears seemed called for. He hoped it was enough.

  


* * *

Harper was finishing up the last of his maintenance tasks when Trance found him. She held Lea on her hip, but a sadly drenched Lea. An unhappy Lea. A crestfallen Lea.

"Uh-oh," he said, "What did she do?"

"Well, she turned the irrigation on a little too high." Trance didn’t look mad, though; Harper thought maybe there was a little twinkle in her eye. "When I wasn’t looking."

"Lea," he said and shook his head. "You gotta stop doing stuff without asking. I mean it. You could get hurt, and I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want to make you stay in your room all the time."

Lea’s lower lip quivered. "I say I sorry."

"She did," Trance agreed. "But now I have to get on to other things. Dylan wants to talk to me about something."

Harper considered this. "Okay. Just put her down right there, I’ll finish this up in a sec. Lea, don’t _move_ from that spot."

Lea nodded solemnly, sat precisely where Trance placed her.

He kept an eye on her anyway.

Once he’d finished, he held out a hand and she popped up, wrapped cold little fingers around his. "Lea, it’s really important that you don’t touch things without asking. This is a big ship and some of the things on it are dangerous for little kids. I know there’s a lot of stuff you want to check out, but you can’t until you ask. If you don’t start asking, I really will have to make sure you stay in your room all the time while Dylan and Abba are working."

That got a sad look. "I be good."

"You have to _ask_ , Lea. I mean it." He crouched down in front of her. "I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all. I know this is an interesting place." It was interesting to him, and he hadn’t spent his entire life on med-deck or in a crib, dying by inches. "But you have to let us tell you what you can touch, okay?"

She nodded solemnly. "No brig."

That gave him a pang. "Good. Come on, I’ll give you some stuff you can touch in the machine shop while I finish up a couple of things."

Lea brightened. "Okay."

The necessity of it made him a little sad. Only a little. That was part of growing up, learning what might bite and what wouldn’t. At least she didn’t have to learn the way he had, he thought, and lifted her up, wet clothes and all. Hugged her hard. "You know, kid, I’m glad you ended up here with us." Surprised himself. He _was_ glad. 

Marveling over that, he tickled her and made her giggle, carried her to the machine shop.

He settled her with some entirely harmless parts and components that while nonfunctional, would fit together, and left her to it while he entered the details of his work in his engineering log. It took him longer than he expected, but he kept checking on her to find her happily putting components together.

No problem, then. He finished his log, closed the file and suddenly heard a sound that struck fear into his heart.

"Uh-oh." 

Lea had one hand in her hair and his epoxy pen in the other.

Epoxy. Oh. Fuck. This was the stuff he used on fine repairs, and there was no solvent that he knew of. That was the whole idea, it was permanent. 

He stared at her, horrified. "What did you do?"

"I was making," she said plaintively.

Oh. Fuck. 

He was so relieved when he found that she hadn’t epoxied the pen to her hand that he nearly had to sit down. She had, however, epoxied her hair to her other hand.

This was not a Good Thing. With his heart rate slowing again, he told her what a Not Good Thing it was all the way to med-deck, completely ignoring her tears.

  


* * *

Dylan was checking manifests from the pilot’s chair when Rommie stopped monitoring whatever she was monitoring and approached him. "Harper has requested a, ah, babysitting ‘bot."

A little startled, Dylan considered that. "A babysitting ‘bot?"

Rommie pursed her lips. "It’s not entirely unheard of. Several of the aristocratic families on Tarn Vedra had artificial intelligence avatars for child-minding. A few were even crafted to appear as children."

"I know. But this isn’t Tarn Vedra, and we’re not aristocrats." What he didn’t say was that the child avatars struck him as faintly off balance. "Did he say why?"

"I’m assuming to keep an eye on Lea," Rommie said. "Although I thought the sharing of responsibilities was working out well."

"Where is he?" Dylan set the manifests aside, got up. "I wonder if something’s happened."

Rommie focused for a moment. "He’s on med-deck. With Trance and Lea."

Dylan’s pulse sped for a moment, but reason asserted itself. If Lea had been hurt, Harper wouldn’t be asking for a ‘bot, and Trance would have reported immediately. "Do you know why they’re there?"

Rommie focused again. Her mouth quirked. "Evidently, Lea has glued her hand to her hair."

He couldn’t help laughing at that. "To her hair?"

"Harper doesn’t seem amused."

"I’d better get down there." He considered Harper’s lack of amusement. "You have the con, Rommie."

"Understood." 

He’d managed to put on a serious expression by the time he reached med-deck; it helped that he could hear Lea wailing from the corridor.

Harper was pacing furiously, and Trance was working over Lea’s hand, pulling something off with a very small pair of tweezers. Every time Trance tugged, Lea wailed--and Lea’s hair was decidedly lopsided.

"What happened?"

Harper gave him a furious look. "She permanently epoxied her hand to her hair."

Talking to Harper might not be helpful at this point. "Trance, is that hurting her?"

"I don’t think so, Dylan." Trance didn’t look up at him. "She’s upset because Harper’s been, um, scolding her." She tugged at whatever it was--and as he got closer, he saw it was strands of hair. 

The question was, who needed calming first? Harper, he decided and guided Harper back into the corridor. "Okay, what happened and why are you so upset?"

"She got hold of my epoxy pen. You know, the one I use for fucking bulkhead cracks?" Harper put his hands in _his_ hair and tugged at it.

Dylan winced. "Oh."

"She _says_ it was on the floor. That’s not impossible, it might have been, but I just got done lecturing her on not touching things without asking and, dammit, she’s _got_ to learn that first off! No matter where she goes, things can bite her, here, the Falco, planetside, stationside, dammit, she’s got to learn this, it’s the big one!" Harper gave him a distraught look. "Epoxy isn’t fatal, although if she’d glued her hand to the pen, Trance would probably have had to surgically remove it. What if she got my nanowelder?"

"Where did this happen?"

Harper paused, took his hands out of his hair and looked guilty. "In the machine shop. I was updating my maintenance logs."

"Ah." He forebore to point out that maybe the machine shop wasn’t the best place to have a two-year-old. "Maybe we can assess some things, I had a few ideas, and really, your ‘bot isn’t such a bad idea no matter where she is. Daily routines can be distracting, and damn, she’s really, really quick."

Harper nodded, relieved. "Okay. Yeah, we can brainstorm things. Figure out--I could set up a play environment for her. I don’t suppose you have any other kids out there to provide a playmate, do you?"

"Two of Lea?" Dylan had to bite his lip. "Think about that."

Harper shuddered. "Good point."

"Besides," Dylan said, unable to resist, "if that implant was defective, who knows--"

Harper’s expression was truly horrified. "Don’t, just don’t, okay?"

"Okay." He repented of his mischief immediately, put an arm around Harper’s shoulders. "Sorry."

"S’okay." Harper sighed again. "Jeez, I scared her to death."

"Scaring her’s the idea, I think. To keep her from doing it again." Dylan hugged lightly. "But now, I think we better calm her down so Trance can work without going deaf."

"You better calm her down. I’ve still got to fix her bed." Harper rubbed his chin. "Maybe I can make it up to her."

"I know you can." Dylan smiled, let him go, and went back in to see if he could help Trance.

Lea finally stopped wailing, and after some very delicate work with a surgical laser, Trance sighed and said, "That’s the best I can do. What’s left should wear off pretty naturally."

Dylan nodded, looked at the small, tear-stained face. "Any toxic effects from the epoxy?" 

"I wouldn’t expect any. It really was a very small amount, Dylan." Trance dimpled. "I know Harper was upset, and he’s got a very good point, but really, the whole thing was more uncomfortable than dangerous."

"Good thing she didn’t put her hand in her mouth," Dylan said dryly and lifted Lea up. She put her head on his shoulder and an unepoxied finger in her mouth. "Good thing she’s left-handed."

Trance nodded feelingly. "Now _that_ would have been unpleasant."

Understatement, Dylan thought. Harper had every reason to be troubled, but he rather thought Harper had been driven by fright. Not that he blamed Harper; just thinking about the possibilities made him repress a shudder. "Okay, baby, let’s go see about getting you something to eat."

Lea didn’t answer, didn’t lift her head. Well, the poor kid was probably worn out, it took a fair amount of energy to make that much noise, he thought and patted her back.

But Lea didn’t want to eat, resisted pretty strenuously when he tried to coax, and even turned her face away from her favorite treat, a sweet, frozen soy dessert. "Are you tired, baby? Hmmm?" Dylan tried to get her to look at him, but she only put her face back into his neck.

Tired and upset, maybe; okay, a nap could work, except that Harper was probably still doing whatever he was doing to her crib; the absence of said crib from Lea’s quarters seemed to confirm this, as did the unsealed door to the corridor. 

Back in his quarters, Dylan sat down at his desk with Lea on his lap, opened the console and keyed up the data he wanted. After a while, he thought perhaps Lea had gone to sleep after all, the little body felt limp against him.

When the door to Lea’s quarters opened, however, she stiffened, her arm going around his neck.

"Hey," Harper said, "come see what you think."

Lea’s arm tightened, she whimpered. "I think you maybe better come here," Dylan said, and loosened Lea’s hold on his throat. "Someone’s still pretty upset." He tried to turn Lea, but she resisted.

Harper sighed, came around the back of the desk to cup the back of Lea’s head and she burst into tears. In Dylan’s ear. Wincing, he shifted her into his lap, turned the chair to face Harper and Harper crouched.

"Hey, hey, what’s the matter?" Genuinely upset. 

Lea tried to climb back into Dylan and he managed to make out a word or two of Chari. "Hey," he said, as worried as Harper. "Hey, baby, we can’t understand you."

Harper rose, raked a hand through his hair. "What’s the matter with her?"

"Hell if I know," Dylan told him and tried to listen. He’d tried to brush up a bit on his Chari since Lea’s arrival, but her quick grasp of Common had made it mostly unnecessary. What bits and pieces he could make out between sobs was.... "No, no, no, Lea, nobody’s going to send you away!" His stomach knotted; hadn’t he been about to do exactly that? A broken flood of Chari and then he understood. It didn’t ease the knot in his gut. "God."

Harper’s eyes were a little wild. "What? What the hell is she saying?"

"She thinks we’re going to send her back to the Falco." Dylan grimaced. "Because her crib was gone, she thinks she’s got to go back."

"And she doesn’t want to." Harper’s mouth set in a grim line. "Here, give her to me."

This was accomplished, with some difficulty since Lea seemed more inclined to behave like a limpet, but the instant Harper got her back into her room, the wailing stopped.

Dylan watched her study the new bed--which was actually pretty clever, he thought, studying it himself. Low platform, raised shelf around the mattress that held her favorite crib toys, handholds for small hands and a shallow ramp that wound around, allowing one small hellion to get in and out of bed without breaking her neck. "Nice," he told Harper, impressed. 

Harper shrugged, looked at Lea. "Now you can get in and out without hurting yourself," he told her softly. "Nobody’s going to send you back, Lea. You belong here." He adjusted the hair clip on top of her head. "Isn’t that right, Dylan."

That put a lump in Dylan’s throat. He wasn’t entirely sure he deserved that trust. "That’s exactly right."

Lea gave them both a long, assessing look. "That mine?" Pointed.

"Sure. See, there’s your stuff. And your blankets and everything." Harper put her on her feet. "Give it a try, kid."

She stood there for a moment, considering that, but turned around and held on to Harper’s knees. "I stay here?" 

"Yes," Dylan said firmly. The hell with promising to try, he thought, resigned. He had to promise period. 

The look Harper gave him made his misgivings less painful, at least.

"You’re never going back there," Harper said fiercely. "You’re staying here."

She held on to Harper. "Okay." A shuddering sigh of relief. "Can I have icy now?"

Harper looked at Dylan, arched an eyebrow. "What?"

"I was trying to bribe her to eat," Dylan admitted. "Yes, you can, Lea."

Unwrapping Lea from his knees, Harper lifted her up again. Shook his head. "You still have to ask before touching, Lea." Ruefully, and he touched the shorn hair. "Cutting your hair isn’t such a bad thing, but you could really get hurt."

"No touching," Lea said fervently. "No touching, I be good."

"I know." Harper looked at Dylan again. "You go with Dylan and get your icy, I’m gonna finish up in here."

Another shuddery breath. "Okay."

Dylan took her again, hugged her hard. "One icy coming up," he murmured and nodded at Harper. "Good job. On all fronts."

Harper lit from within, all bright relief. "Thanks. Just winging it." 

Dylan winked. "Good winging, Abba."

But he was going to get to the bottom of Lea’s fear anyway. Just because.

  


* * *

It seemed that Lea didn’t want to talk about the Falco. Wouldn’t talk about it in Common at all, but Rev coaxed a few details out in Chari while Dylan fed her far more frozen soy than any one small person should be able to eat. 

At last, Lea wouldn’t answer even in Chari. "Rev have bite," she told Dylan.

"Transparent," Rev chuckled. "She wants me to stop asking."

Dylan nodded. "Let’s leave it alone for now, then." He and Rev exchanged a speaking look. 

"No more," Lea said and turned her face away from the spoon. "All full."

Dylan managed to get her mouth wiped before she slid down and headed for her quarters. "Go see Abba then, but remember what he said. No touching."

"No touching," she agreed and pulled the hair clip out of her hair. "Here, Dylan."

He took the hair clip, smiled as one lock of hair fell back over her forehead. "You don’t like it?"

"It bites me," she said and headed off in search of Harper.

Dylan watched her go, looked back at Rev. "Well?"

"It’s hard to say precisely," Rev admitted. "She was unhappy there, I can tell you that. Part of that may simply have been the constraints of her illness, Dylan. She was a sick child in an environment where children are part of the daily routine of the ship. She seems to have been kept isolated from the rest of the ship, and her grandmother, as medical officer, may have been one of the few adults she ever saw. As we’d surmised, she was largely confined to bed because of her illness, and spent long periods of time with no other stimulation than holo-stories and computer simulations. I would guess that her interactions with the medical staff were fairly clinical, from what little she says, and of course, that involved sometimes painful procedures."

Dylan nodded somberly. "Not good memories for her, then."

"I should say not." Rev was equally grave. "Here, she is healthy, she has people who show her affection, who spend time with her outside of clinical care--this is something she doesn’t want to lose, naturally."

Sighing, Dylan nodded. "Exactly. Do you think there was any actual mistreatment?"

Rev looked at the door Lea had gone through. "I cannot say." Troubled tone. "But she did express that she didn’t want someone named ‘Tima to get her."

"Fatima," Dylan said grimly, understanding. "Maybe in abandoning her, Tregozzi knew she’d be better off."

"There is that possibility." Rev rose. "Dylan, brooding over the past is pointless. She’s happy and healthy, and all children have fears of abandonment, I suspect. It’s a natural part of their dependence on adults for care."

"Remember how afraid she was of us at first?" Dylan shook his head. "You’re right, Rev, there’s no point in obsessing on it."

From the next room, they both heard Lea giggle.

It eased the knot in Dylan’s stomach. "Now if we can just teach her about safety."

Rev laughed softly. "Something all children must learn. I’ll do what I can to encourage it as well."

Dylan smiled in return. "Thanks, Rev."

Rev bowed his head slightly. "It is my pleasure, as always."

He supposed that was true. Whatever attendant annoyances Lea brought, she did have a way of enlivening the daily routine. After seeing Rev out, he went in search of both his enliveners.

Thinking about the conditions of Lea’s early life left him needing a bit of that energy for himself.

  


* * *

Harper didn’t really expect Lea to stay in bed the entire night when he tucked her in, but hey, he had to try. "Stay asleep," he told her and bent down to kiss her temple. 

She nodded sleepily and pushed the stuffed toy at him. "Kiss Pali."

"Pali?" So far as he knew, this was the first time the thing had a name.

"Pali." Firmly. "Like Palimari."

He grinned at that, pretended to kiss the thing. It was looking pretty dingy these days, he was going to have to find a way to sneak it out for cleaning.

Lea took Pali back, kissed him herself and snuggled into her pillow. Yawned. "I never go back?"

"Never," Harper said firmly.

"Never," Dylan echoed, coming in. "This is your home now, Lea."

He could kiss Dylan for that. In fact, he should, he thought and did exactly that.

Lea held her arms up. "Night night, Dylan."

When Harper let go, Dylan’s expression was surprised, but pleased. "Night, baby." He leaned in, ruffled Lea’s hair and kissed the tip of her nose. "Stay asleep."

"I try," she said drowsily and snuggled back in. 

Dylan arched his eyebrows at Harper.

Harper grinned, led the way out, turning lights down as he went. As he half expected, Dylan pushed him up against the wall and kissed him back with a great deal of enthusiasm and skill. 

"So," Dylan finally breathed, "were you just feeling frisky, or did I do something right?"

Harper nearly purred. "You did something very right. And I was feeling frisky."

"Double header," Dylan muttered and dove back in again. 

Putting his arms around Dylan’s neck, Harper hauled himself up nearly even, wrapped his legs around Dylan’s waist. Dylan rocked his hips forward, grinding against him, and that just turned him on more.

Somehow, they made it to the bed, tumbled down on it laughing. 

Dylan tugged at Harper’s clothing. "I like doing something right for a change," he said, a little dry. "And you know I like it when you’re frisky."

"I second that emotion," Harper growled and pushed up Dylan’s shirt. He wanted making out, he wanted skin to skin, and he wanted it now. Too bad clothes had to be removed before you could get skin to skin; if he was telekinetic, he could take care of all that without removing his mouth from Dylan’s.

Since he wasn’t, they had to keep pulling apart to take care of it, dammit, but then, finally, skin to skin and oh, yeah, that was good, that was really good and he wanted it to be really good for Dylan, too.

Makeup sex was great; semi-celebration sex was better. He rocked up against Dylan and Dylan rocked back, and maybe it wasn’t fancy, but boy, it felt terrific, and Dylan seemed to agree enthusiastically. 

"Slow down," Dylan muttered, slid his hands under Harper’s ass.

"Oh, yeah, like that helps," Harper gasped, rocked up again, locked his arms around Dylan’s neck. 

Dylan groaned, nipped his throat and sucked at it, and Harper closed his eyes, reveling in sensation. They hadn’t done this enough lately, dammit, and that was stupid. He’d been unsettled or mad or worried, and Dylan, he rather thought, had been the same, but for once they were on the same page, and damn, damn, damn, that felt good, so damn good--Dylan rolled them halfway, reached and closed his fingers around both of them and stroked.

"God," Dylan said huskily and kissed him again, hard and long and deep. He dove this time, dove in deep, kissed back, pushed his hips up again and again until that was it, he groaned and shuddered and came. Dylan gasped and shuddered with him, and oh, yeah, yeah, he wanted that, wanted that, bit Dylan’s chin as the pleasure peaked and then began to ebb.

When he could catch his breath again, there was more making out, lazy making out, all the urgency gone. 

Concentrating, he wrote on the back of Dylan’s shoulder with his forefinger, got a kiss at the hollow of his throat and a low murmur in his ear. "Oh, yeah, me, too." 

Nice, nice, and he wrapped himself closer, nuzzled comfortably. "Don’t wanna move."

"Good," Dylan breathed and reached, tugged blankets over both of them. "Fine by me. I don’t _want_ you to move."

Harper nuzzled again. "You don’t know how much I appreciate the fact that your spit and polish attitude goes to hell after sex."

"You don’t know how much I appreciate sex with you," Dylan countered.

"I dunno, I might have a glimmering."

Dylan smiled against his throat. "A glimmering?"

"Yeah. A hint of a glimmering of an idea." Harper rubbed the sole of his foot on Dylan’s calf. "But only the barest hint of a glimmering, so feel free to try and tell me."

"Greedy." Soft chuff of laughter against his skin. 

He laughed, too. "Your point?"

Dylan leaned up on one elbow. "I have to have a point?" Smirked at him. "It was just an observation."

"Oh, well, in that case--" Harper rolled to his back, stretched languidly. "I guess I’m just too greedy for you."

Dylan put a possessive hand on his hip. "You aren’t going anywhere." Low growl.

Harper grinned. So much for promising to try. He should have known, should have trusted. "Okay."

Dylan’s smile was like a surprise. "Good."

  


* * *

Tyr’s snaky mind and Harper’s ingenuity combined with Rommie’s assessment of Lea’s needs and Trance’s surprisingly good sense--at least when it came to Lea--and approximately a Standard month after the K’ray attack, Dylan was startled when an access tube suddenly disgorged both Harper and Lea.

Lea was giggling, but she got to her feet and scampered past him without so much as a gleeful crow.

Harper grinned and went after her. "Fast, fast, fast, fast!" 

Dylan watched them go around the corner, blinked. "Rommie, what’s going on?"

"Safety drill," Rommie’s voice came over the comm. "If you’re talking about Lea and Harper."

Safety drill. He’d known that Harper was working on that, but Harper had been fairly close-mouthed about the details. "And the purpose of this drill?"

"To teach Lea the access network in the event that it should ever become necessary for her to hide in them, and also to show her how to reach safety in her quarters should she ever need to do so."

Ah. That was good sense. Unreasonably cheered, he went on to command deck, where Tyr sat in the pilot’s chair. 

Tyr glanced at him, nodded and looked back at the viewscreen. "Good job, Lea," he said. "That’s the best yet."

Dylan blinked, saw Harper raised Lea’s arms in a victory salute. "She did it herself, too," Harper said, pardonably prideful. "I just followed her."

"Very good job," Tyr said again, his tone approving. "I told you she was bright enough to learn it."

"Hey, I knew she was." Harper grinned. "Hey, Dylan. Sorry we didn’t stop to say hi."

"Quite all right," Dylan said mildly, "I was just wondering what was going on."

"We’re teaching her how to use the access tubes," Tyr said. "In the event we’re ever boarded."

That jarred Dylan. "We’ve only been boarded once. And if memory serves, you had a hand in that."

"That was then," Tyr said mildly. "This is now."

Dylan cleaned close. "I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that if we ever are boarded again, and you have anything to do with it, I _will_ kill you." The rage had come up out of nowhere, white hot and deadly. 

Tyr gazed at him, and his eyes widened slightly. "No," he said finally, almost respectfully, "you don’t."

"Good." He took in a breath, gestured Tyr out of the pilot’s chair. Tyr got up, let him take his place.

Tyr seemed almost unsettled, nodded at him and left without another word.

Dylan glanced over at the viewscreen to find it dark. He felt unsettled himself, hoped his voice had been too low for Lea to hear.

But he brooded over it for the rest of his shift.

When Beka relieved him, he went to find Harper, still unsettled. He found Lea first, or rather Tyr and Lea and Rev in the officers’ mess, playing some kind of game that undoubtedly had graver implications. 

Undoubtedly. Considering that it looked like an environmental console board.

Seated on Rev’s lap, Lea punched a button and crowed when it beeped in reward.

"Good job," Tyr said approvingly. "First time, too."

"I’m not sure I entirely approve," Rev said dryly.

"Neither am I," Dylan said, leaning over Tyr’s shoulder. "What is this?"

Tyr glanced at him. "More drills. In the event of a hull breach, she should know how to seal off affected areas."

Lea looked up at him, put a finger in her mouth. Dylan carefully schooled his expression, reckoning she’d seen something there that worried her. "And how is she doing?"

"Excellently." Tyr sounded faintly surprised. "You know, I’m well aware that despite his more annoying characteristics, the little professor has a remarkable mind. The little one has inherited that, and more."

"Intelligence as a genetic trait?" Dylan said it gently.

Tyr arched an eyebrow. "And of course, she also has a genetic inheritance from you."

"Somewhat diluted," Dylan agreed, "but yes."

"I can’t help but think that given advantages Harper didn’t have, she’s going to be quite formidable." Tyr looked back at Lea, who smiled uncertainly and held her arms out for Dylan to pick her up.

Dylan obliged, unable to resist, looked down at the console. "She’s had a busy day with those advantages," he murmured. "I think it’s time for me to save her from them."

Rev chuckled. "It’s all a game to her anyway, Dylan."

Lea grinned. "I win!"

"Hmmm." Dylan finger-combed a lock of hair back out of Lea’s eyes. "Good for you."

She beamed at him. "Two helped."

Tyr rolled his eyes. "I’ll be glad when she’s able to say my name properly." He looked up, growled at Lea.

To Dylan’s amusement, Lea chortled and growled back. "Wonderful, you’re teaching her to be Nietzschean." Dryly, and he exchanged a look with Tyr.

Tyr only smiled. "Don’t worry, she has your idealism to balance it out."

"Ah." He felt both better and worse; Tyr evidently accepted his death threat as a natural reaction. "Safety drills are good." 

"True," Rev said, sounding a bit reluctant. "It just seems a pity that it’s necessary."

"Unfortunately, that’s the way this universe operates." Dylan exchanged another look with Tyr, nodded. "As one of her adult relatives, I thank you both. Now, I think we’ll both go and torment her other relative."

Tyr’s mouth twitched. "He’s just as obsessed with the drills." Mildly.

"I know." Dylan looked at Lea, who was looking at the board again, thinking gods knew what. "But it’s time for a break. For everyone."

Rev rose from the table. "Then I’ll leave you to it."

Dylan nodded at Tyr, walked with Rev out of the officers’ mess.

"He’s right, you know," Rev said suddenly. "She’s very intelligent, as hungry for knowledge as Harper."

Lea was fiddling with the buckles on his jacket. "This bites me," she told Dylan seriously.

Rev chuckled. "And she has a unique way of expressing herself."

Dylan unbuckled the top two buckles, folded the jacket collar back. "Better?"

"Yes," Lea said firmly and yawned hugely.

"Sleepy girl," Dylan told her.

"No nap," she said firmly. "We go see Abba now."

"And she’s very strong-willed," Dylan said dryly. 

"She must get that from you." Rev chuckled again.

"There is that possibility," Dylan agreed.

Rev patted Lea. "Until later, little one."

"Bye bye," Lea told him happily. "I go see Abba now."

Dylan chuckled. She kept him regaled with her version of the day’s events until they reached the corridor in which Harper was working.

He peered at them through his safety goggles, turned off his welder and pushed the goggles up. "To what do I owe this honor." 

Lea giggled, squirmed to get down. "Uh uh," Dylan told her. "Abba’s working and you’re safer up here."

Harper grinned, put down the welder and stood up. "Hey, he’s right, munchkin. But I can take a break for my favorite girl." 

Lea reached out for him happily, babbling about her victories. 

"Good girl," Harper approved. "She just keeps learning more every day." Cheerfully, but there was something shadowed in his expression when he looked at Dylan. "Did you have lunch, munchkin?"

"No." Lea reached up for Harper’s goggles. "I want to help."

"Not a chance," Harper told her firmly, but helped her put his goggles on. They slipped, naturally, and Lea giggled. "Remember what I told you."

Lea sighed, pushed the goggles up. "Okay."

Dylan smiled faintly. They’d made some progress at least. "Break for lunch?"

"Sure." Harper gave him another shadowed look. "Give me just a second to finish this up."

"Is something wrong?"

Harper shrugged. "Nah." Hesitated. "Maybe. I dunno, here, you take the munchkin, I’ll meet you."

"Our quarters or the officers’ mess." He said it deliberately. They’d danced around it for a while, but the fact was, since Lea’s arrival, Harper hadn’t spent a night in his own. Dylan was happy with that. The ship was big enough, if they needed space, there was plenty of space to be had, but Harper evidently hadn’t needed that space.

That was reassuring, shadowed gaze or not.

Harper blinked at him. "Oh. Um. Our quarters, I guess."

Dylan took Lea, feeling unreasonably pleased with himself. After all, he hadn’t done anything but put it out there. "Don’t be long," he told Harper cheerfully. "Once she’s decided she’s hungry--"

Harper laughed, dispelling shadows. "Yeah, nothing is safe. I won’t be long, don’t worry. Give her some fruit if she shows her fangs."

Laughing, Dylan nodded, headed "home." Weird. Very weird. The ship had always been home, once he’d settled in as captain. But it hadn’t included a family, per se. Not that crew wasn’t, in its own way, a kind of family, but obviously crew hadn’t included a very small person who objected to buckles that bit.

It hadn’t included a lot of things that he had now. 

He took Harper’s advice and quartered an apple for Lea while they waited, stuck a packaged meal into the ‘wave and wondered if Rommie would have objections if he just once skipped giving Lea the special cereal that Lea didn’t like anyway. He decided it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission; he was getting damned tired of trying to coax it into Lea, who vastly preferred whatever they were eating. He did, however, give her a cup of the fortified soy-fruit drink that Rommie had also prescribed. That, at least, was something that Lea liked and liked often, and she drank it thirstily, waved happily when Harper came in.

"Hey, kid, long time no see." Harper ruffled her hair, leaned over to kiss Dylan. "Something smells good."

"I hope it is. Something with pasta, we picked it up at El Dorado."

"Not from the lizards, I hope." Harper peered into the ‘wave; when it pinged, he opened it, juggled the hot container out. "Nah, smells too good."

Dylan grinned, got out plates and flatware. "Glad to hear it. Lea’s having some, too."

Harper looked askance at this. "Are you insane?"

"Nope. Hell, she ends up eating what we’re eating anyway." Dylan grinned. "I’ll tie a towel around her neck."

Harper nodded skeptically. "If you say so."

Munching on one of her pieces of apple, Lea beamed at him. "I want some."

"Drink your soy," Harper told her. "I’ll get you some."

Lea picked up her cup. "Okay!"

Dylan chuckled. "You know, it occurs to me that it’s a good thing she’s got your sunny nature. We could _really_ have had our hands full."

" _I_ have a sunny nature?" Harper rolled his eyes. "I keep telling you, you think too highly of me."

"I doubt that." Dylan wondered if this was where he found out what was bothering Harper. "I think _you_ think too little of yourself."

"Maybe." The shadow came back. "You ever think maybe we’re rubbing off on each other a little too much?"

Dylan took the container, looked closely at Harper. "You’re feeling the sudden urge to wear a uniform and polish your boots?"

"I’m serious!" Irritated now, Harper sat down and scowled at him. "What you said to Tyr, for instance."

Dylan winced. "I’d hoped I hadn’t said it loudly enough for you two to hear."

"I didn’t have to hear it." Somber look. "I mean, you wouldn’t have said that to him a year ago."

"Actually, I said something very much like that less than a year ago." Dylan put some pasta in Lea’s dish and handed it over. "That’s hot, baby. Don’t eat it yet."

Harper absently handed Lea the Lea-sized flatware. "Blow on it," he told Lea. "But still, Dylan, you--I mean, you’ve got this larger than life idealism and ethical structure and telling Tyr--" He stopped, apparently remembering their audience.

"Telling Tyr exactly what I would do," Dylan added helpfully and handed Harper a plateful. Sat down. "Look, for good or ill, Lea depends on us."

Harper nodded, eyes narrowing. "Yeah, so?"

"So, as little as I like it--Harper, I’m a soldier. I don’t like killing, but sometimes--Tyr is Nietzschean. If it saved his life to give someone a bargaining tool--" He looked pointedly at Lea. "Do you think he’d scruple at that, no matter how much he appears to like her?"

Harper closed his eyes. "No, I know that. But--"

"But if I had to, in order to prevent that, yes, that’s exactly what I’d do." He held Harper’s gaze. "It has nothing to do with my moral values slipping. It has to do with necessity, Harper. You’re an adult, you can handle yourself and pretty damned well. She’s not."

After a moment, Harper nodded and Dylan rather thought his expression was relieved. "Okay. It’s not that I object--I just get worried sometimes, I get worried that you’re going to lose who you are with all of us telling you otherwise." Muted voice.

"Harper, that’s not going to happen." Dylan let his mouth twitch. "Come on, do you really think I’m that easy to corrupt?"

Brief flicker of delight. "Well, now that you ask--"

Dylan pointed his fork at Harper. "Not in front of the munchkin."

"There, a case in point. You don’t even know what a munchkin is."

"I’m a munchkin," Lea put in and blew into her bowl mightily. 

Dylan grinned. "In fact, I do. One of the little people in the land of Oz."

Harper smirked. "Close, but no cigar. They didn’t live in the land of Oz."

"Why would I want a cigar?" Dylan asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Ow," Lea said plaintively, "Hot, hot, hot!"

Harper took the dish, blew on it. "I told you to wait."

"You said blow. I blowed." Lea’s lower lip quivered. "I blowed hard."

Dylan took her cup, refilled it. "Here, baby, this will help."

She drank thirstily again. Scowled at both of them.

It truly was a very Harperish scowl. Dylan had to look away to keep from laughing at her. "So, do you feel better?" he asked Harper.

Harper stopped blowing and nodded. Gave him one of the smiles that tended to make Dylan’s knees wobble at certain moments. "Yeah. I do."

"Good."

Lunch proceeded more or less peacefully, considering that Lea was overtired and in no good mood after burning her tongue. The towel around her neck did little to protect her clothing, unfortunately, and Harper peeled her out of her coverall once she’d finished, held her out at arms’ length while Dylan sponged her face and hair and hands.

"Let’s remember not to give her anything with red sauce until she’s at least five," Harper said dubiously.

Dylan sighed. "What she really needs is a bath. You know, we need to figure out what she’s going to wear, she’s outgrowing these things already."

Harper nodded. "Yeah. I don’t think she’d stay awake long enough for a bath. Naptime, munchkin."

Lea’s eyelids were heavy. "Abba," she whined and squirmed.

"I’m afraid to touch her." Harper shifted her to his hip in spite of this statement. "Come on, pork chop, time to sleep."

"I not a pork chop." But Lea put her head on his shoulder and her finger in her mouth.

Dylan smiled, leaned in and kissed her temple. "Naptime is right."

"Hey, at least she’s got that sleeping through the night thing more or less down."

Dylan grinned. "More or less. Although how would we know?"

"Good point." Harper waggled his eyebrows and carried Lea off. Came back a few minutes later. "So, what’s on your schedule today?"

"Mine?" Dylan regarded Lea’s place and decided another visit from the housekeeping bots was in order. "Nothing in particular. Nice quiet day, I suppose."

Harper was looking at him... and Dylan realized just _how_ Harper was looking at him, Harper was looking at him like he was dessert. _Did_ he have anything on his schedule that couldn’t be shoved? Hell, no, that was the beauty of this mission. It was entirely up to him. So he smoldered at Harper. "You have something in mind?"

Harper’s eyes were alight. "Do I ever."

Dylan crooked a finger. "Come here and tell me about it."

Harper did not delay.

  


* * *

Time passed as time did, and soon it was hard to remember that Lea had only been with them seven Standard months. They were at Erirtrea, a Rimworld in the backwaters of the galaxy that was, nonetheless, remarkably intact in terms of social structure and government. 

Culturally, Erirtreans were matrilineal, rather than matriarchal, very courteous people who apparently were tolerant of the cultural beliefs of others and who had provided a haven for large numbers of refugees. Technologically, they hadn’t suffered as much as other worlds after the Fall, which somewhat limited the glitter of the things Dylan had hoped to offer them.

Nevertheless, the opening discussions went well. The Erirtrean Minister of State offered them the freedom of the planet for shore leave, which was tempting enough that Dylan accepted. It had the added value of allowing his people to observe things that might not show up during the more official discussions, and as Beka said, they should never pass up the chance to shop.

A little trade, a lot of diplomatic chitchat, and by the third day, Dylan was wondering if they were simply too courteous to tell him to, as Harper said, take a hike.

He was strolling through the park in front of the Secretariat, taking a much needed break for fresh air with the Secretary at his side. A handsome woman who appeared to be about ten years his senior, she was comfortably silent, letting the natural sounds of the park ease his weariness.

"Dylan." Beka’s voice.

He turned to see Beka and, damn, Lea, and he was suddenly acutely uncomfortable. He’d authorized leave in rotation specifically to keep Lea out of anyone’s view, and dammit, Beka had brought her down anyway.

He gave Beka a speaking look as she approached.

"Dylan!" Lea held her arms out to him. "I missed you!"

There being no help for it, he took her from Beka, gave Beka another dour look.

Beka smiled sunnily. "We’ve been shopping," she told Dylan. "Madame Secretary, it’s a pleasure to visit your world. Thank you again for the opportunity."

"I gots new shoes!" Lea stuck a small foot out. "See! Beka said I needed new ones or my toes would poke out!"

"Very nice new shoes," Dylan said admiringly. 

Secretary Cariadne smiled at Lea. "What a lovely child. Is she yours, Captain Valentine?"

"Mine? Heavens, no." Beka smiled politely. "She’s our engineer’s daughter, but we’ve all more or less adopted her. Well, and she’s Captain Hunt’s descendant, too, in ways that are a bit dizzying to consider."

He could have throttled her. Smiling thinly, he warned her with a look, hoped she took it.

"How interesting." Cariadne chuckled. "The perils of an event horizon, Captain?"

"I’m afraid so." He managed to keep his tone even. "I didn’t realize you were bringing her planetside." To Beka.

Beka smiled with something resembling smugness. "Well, you know, she’s outgrown almost everything, and I promised her that we’d see about the new shoes and all that. Trance and I did very well, I think we probably have her set for at least another year. Although, as quickly as she’s growing, I might be overoptimistic."

"Children have a way of doing that," Cariadne agreed. 

"I missed you," Lea said again, putting her arms around his neck. "Did you miss me?"

He couldn’t help softening at that. "Of course, I did. I always do."

Lea beamed at him. "Abba tooked good care of me, though."

"I knew he would," Dylan told her. 

"Captain Hunt, if you’d like to spend some time with her, we can make this a longer break." Cariadne was smiling. "I’m sure she would enjoy the park."

"How come the roof is so big?" Lea craned her head back and squinted. "And why it’s so bright?"

"That’s the sky, Lea," he told her. "We’re not on a ship right now, we’re on a world."

"I keep telling her," Beka said and laughed. "I’m afraid it’s a little out of her realm, Madame Secretary. She was on a ship and until recently, she was a little too ill to enjoy the benefits of planetary shore leave."

"How dreadful." Cariadne’s eyes rested on Lea. "She certainly looks well enough now."

"She is," Dylan agreed, wondering if Beka had suddenly lost her mind or if she was playing some dangerous game. "Needless to say, we’re very pleased."

"Then you must let her experience the park," Cariadne told him firmly. "Shall we say, in an hour or so?"

Dylan sighed inwardly.

Beka grinned at him. "I’ll let you do that. I’ve got a few more errands to do, I’ll be back soon."

He opened his mouth to protest, closed it again when Beka fairly sprinted away.

She was definitely up to something. "Thank you, Madame Secretary," he said managing not to snap. "I’ll do that."

Lea had put a finger in her mouth and was considering her surroundings with a mixture of confusion and awe. "Not a ship?"

"Not a ship," he agreed.

Cariadne chuckled softly, patted Lea’s arm and left him there.

"What am I going to do with you?" Dylan asked dryly.

"Is it safe?" Lea craned her head back again. "Can I walk?"

"Of course." He set her on her feet, held out a hand and let her wrap her fingers around his. There followed a steady stream of "what is this" and "what is that" and "why don’t we fall up" and of course, "why is that thing bright."

At least she didn’t ask him why the sky was the color of pewter. 

He was still twitchy, however, and glad of his force lance, but when the time came to meet the Secretary again, Beka still wasn’t back and he was forced to take Lea back into the Secretariat with him.

Cariadne met him at the door of the meeting room. "Captain, I believe that we’ve made some progress," she said pleasantly. "The Triune committee would like to have a copy of the charter for discussion and debate."

Dylan stared at her. "They would? Of course--I’d be very glad to provide you with one."

"I think that you’ll find the Triune discussion tedious; you’re more than welcome to stay for it, of course, or if you like, I can offer you a brief holiday with your family at the shore. My family owns a small villa there, nothing very luxurious, but the conventional wisdom is that the fresh sea air is very good for whatever may ail one. My grandchildren love it there."

Dylan was briefly swept by the longing to show Lea the sea. "That’s a very generous offer," he began.

"Captain Hunt," said Cariadne’s aide. "I’m sorry to interrupt, but one of your crew members is here for the child."

He turned his head to see Harper standing at the door beside one of the Secretariat staff. "Ah, yes." Harper’s expression was uninformative. "Ah, her father." 

Cariadne followed his gaze, nodded. "Do consider it, Captain. You’re more than welcome, and between you and me, some members of the Triune are, ah, less than succinct."

"I will, thank you. If you’ll excuse me for a moment--" He moved toward the door. Harper’s eyes were not happy. 

He handed Lea over to Harper. "You look upset," he murmured.

"Beka," Harper said evenly. "I found out after she was already down here. Long after."

Dylan sighed. "How do you feel about the sea? No, forget I asked that, I know how you feel. We’ve been offered the use of the Secretary’s villa." Dryly.

Harper’s eyes widened. " _We_ have?"

"My family." Dylan’s mouth quirked. "I’ll discuss it with her. Find out what the hell Beka was thinking of, and I’ll see you tonight." He kissed Lea’s temple, hugged her. "You be good for Abba."

"I will." She patted his cheek. "I love you, Dylan."

A little surprised, he looked at her directly. "I love you, too, baby."

"You’re not supposed to say it out loud," Harper growled.

"She’s too young to read my handwriting." Dylan smiled again. "I’ll see you later, munchkin."

"Bye bye!" She waved over Harper’s shoulder as Harper went out.

There were tolerant smiles all around as he went back across the room.

To his astonishment, the afternoon’s discussion were noticeably more fruitful.

  


* * *

"Look, Dylan, I had picked up that they were very uncertain about signing up for anything at the request of the former Commonwealth’s military. Now, a High Guard officer with his own family aboard, that’s a different story. That’s not about exerting control, that’s about, as you claimed, reasserting law and order and peaceful unity." Beka was still almost smug.

"And you couldn’t pass this _on_ to me before you brought Lea down?" Whether Beka had been right or not, Dylan couldn’t let this pass. "What if you’d been wrong?"

"I asked Trance’s advice." Beka shrugged. "You ask Trance’s advice all the time."

Dylan turned to look at Trance, who smiled sheepishly. "I take it you advised her to do it."

"Um. Well, you know, it’s not something I can just do on demand, Dylan, I told you that, but this time--I knew it would be all right."

He leaned against the rail. Studied them both. "And you didn’t see fit to enlighten me?" Dangerously quiet.

Beka looked uncomfortable for the first time. "I didn’t think you’d buy it. You aren’t always the easiest person to convince, Dylan. Besides, I thought it was important that it all seemed as natural as possible."

"If you ever do something like this again, Beka, there won’t be anything to keep you out of the brig, at the very least." He held her gaze. "Risking Lea is _not_ an option. Ever."

Her expression was shocked. "Dammit, Dylan, do you think I ever would!? If I hadn’t been sure--"

"Beka." Softly.

She shut her mouth. Nodded tightly. "Understood."

"And now that I’ve said that, congratulations to you both for seeing it. I didn’t." He had to be fair. Had to be. And they’d evidently been right. 

Trance beamed. Beka nodded grudgingly.

He nodded back, left the bridge, thinking longingly of the sea again.

Maybe it was time for him to take a little shore leave, too. And Lea.

  


* * *

Harper was of two minds about the whole villa thing. It was frabjously great to be able to actually do a little surfing, and he didn’t even mind the news reports about the Commonwealth ambassador and his family visiting the planet, so long as he didn’t actually have to see any of them. It did make his skin twitch, the awareness of so many people watching, so to speak, and he was fiercely insistent that none of the news people show Lea.

There was some grumbling about that, but the Secretary put a stop to it pronto.

Harper found he rather liked her, and was suspicious of himself for doing so. What the hell, anybody who found Lea charming couldn’t be all bad, could they? Or so he told himself, at least.

For all that everyone expected Lea to have fun, she was very dubious about being planetside.

"Why don’t we fall up?" she asked again and again, and no matter how often they explained gravity, she remained dubious.

The beach, which should have been fun, was entirely too full of various living creatures. The first time a crustacean emerged from the sand near her feet, Lea went into full tilt panic, climbing Dylan’s legs with horrifying speed.

Sand spiders were even worse. Harper wondered if some people were imprinted with arachnophobia, and if Lea was one of them.

There were living things in the water, too, and while she’d let either one of them carry her out in the shallows, she wouldn’t let them put her down in the water unless there wasn’t a sign of any aquatic life.

Too, her skin was even fairer than his, and she didn’t like the sunscreen lotion Rommie prescribed as absolutely necessary, given the moderately low ozone levels in the planet’s atmosphere. 

In short, she wasn’t having the best time of her life. 

On the third day, they gave it up, made arrangements to return to Andromeda. When the Secretary came out to apprise Dylan about the Triune debate, Harper left him to it and went out for one last ride.

Lea waved at him a little dolefully and climbed into Dylan’s lap.

She was still there when he returned, about half-asleep.

Cariadne smiled at Harper. "I’m sorry she hasn’t enjoyed it more."

Harper sighed. "A spacer bred and born, I guess. But thank you for the opportunity, ma’am."

"It’s my pleasure. My grandchildren are growing up too fast, they have their own busy lives and we don’t get the opportunity to come out very often. You’re very good at surfing, Mr. Harper. You’ll have to come back some time for our Festival."

Harper grinned. "I’d love to, ma’am. If the Andromeda is close, maybe we can."

She nodded, still smiling, and he went in to shower and dress.

When he re-emerged, Dylan was inside again, putting sandals on very small feet. Smiled at him. "I think we have another Commonwealth member."

"Great." Harper arched an eyebrow. "You do realize, don’t you, just how totally whacked it is for the three of us to represent family life in the Commonwealth."

Dylan grinned. "Fortunately, the Erirtreans have a very broad view of what constitutes a family."

He sat down next to Dylan, put a fist in Dylan’s shirt and tugged him over for a kiss. "Not that I’m complaining, exactly. It’s just majorly weird."

"Mmmmm." Dylan kissed him again. "I’m an old-fashioned sort, I kind of like that they do."

"That makes you revolutionary, not old-fashioned."

"Maybe to you," Dylan agreed. "Poor munchkin, you didn’t have much fun, did you."

Lea looked up at him. "The sky is too big," she complained.

"And you don’t like the wildlife," Harper sighed. "Definitely a spacer kid."

"So it would seem. Little by little, maybe. Or not." Dylan didn’t seem worried about it. "Not everyone is cut out for planetside living."

"Nope," Harper agreed cheerfully. "I like visiting, but space, ah, space."

"You still lust after my ship, though." Dylan grinned, got up. "Ready, Lea?"

"Yes." Firmly.

But Harper thought about it on the trip back to Andromeda. "Lea, how come those things on the beach scared you?"

She gave him a nervous look. "Bad things."

"Well, these weren’t bad, munchkin. But did they remind you of something bad?"

Lea shuddered. "Bad things."

Dylan frowned. "What kind of bad things, Lea?"

She put her finger in her mouth and refused to answer.

Harper considered things he’d seen out in space, shook his head at Dylan. 

Dylan let it go.

But Harper wondered. Sometimes, trader ships went missing. Sometimes they got in over their heads. He wondered if that had happened while Lea was on the Falco, if she’d seen something or heard of something.

Who the hell knew? 

Dylan, however, brooded over it, Harper could tell.

After putting Lea to bed later, he came in to find Dylan staring at something on his console screen. "God, what is that?"

"Something unpleasant I once encountered on a scout mission, back in my reckless youth."

It bore an unpleasant resemblance to the sandspiders. "You think she may have seen some of those?"

"I hope not. It’s deep in Magog territory. And she’s not afraid of Rev." Dylan studied the screen. "Of course, the Magog have moved closer, perhaps these things have as well."

"I’m guessing that’s really not a good thing from your expression."

"No, it’s not." Dylan shut down the viewscreen. "But without further data, I’m just speculating wildly, and if I’m speculating wildly, I’d rather speculate about what to do with _you_."

Harper couldn’t help himself, he smirked. "With me? What makes you think you get to do anything with me?"

Dylan leaned back in the chair, smiled lazily at him.

Guh. His knees wanted to wobble. When Dylan got playful, it increased his sexual charisma by about 100 percent, and if there was any way for Harper to resist that, he hadn’t figured it out yet. 

So he climbed into Dylan’s lap. "Okay, you convinced me."

Dylan chuckled. "If I knew what it was that had that effect on you, I’d bottle it and make a fortune."

"Yeah, but it would probably only have this effect on me." Harper smirked again. "And then I’d be exhausted, trying to spread myself around to everyone who had it."

As he’d half expected, Dylan tugged him closer. "There goes another great merchandising idea."

"Getting possessive again, are you?"

"Just optimizing my chances." 

Laughing, Harper leaned in, kissed the tip of Dylan’s nose. "You know, this is the longest relationship I’ve ever had. Unless you count Bannon."

"I don’t count Bannon." Rather snarkily.

He grinned. "Neither do I."

"Good." Dylan pulled him down, kissed him. Not hard and hungry, but sweetly, nicely, let’s see how it feels and go from there. The kiss waxed and waned and then Dylan let go of him.

"You don’t have anything to worry about," Harper muttered. "I’m not looking to broaden my horizons."

Dylan’s smile was a nice reward. What Dylan did next, was better.

  


* * *

The first soft cry woke Dylan, but he wasn’t sure if he’d dreamt it or not. The second cry, however, wasn’t nearly as soft, and he recognized it right away, was up and pulling on pants in nearly record time. 

The third cry was a shriek of terror and Harper tumbled after him, cursing incoherently.

Lea was wedged into a corner of her bed, and until he brought the light all the way up, she seemed more asleep than awake. The shrieking stopped when she woke up, but she was shocky and confused, sobbing when he picked her up.

"Bad things," was all she would say, again and again.

Harper showed her there was no place for bad things to hide, they all went around the room to examine everything, but still, Lea clung and wept piteously.

At last, Dylan shrugged and took her back into his quarters. Harper followed, baffled and sleepy. "What the hell did she dream about?"

"We’ll find out later," Dylan said wearily. "I hate starting a bad precedent, but she’s not going to go back to sleep in there tonight."

Harper blinked. "Isn’t that supposed to warp her or something."

"No, watching us sleep is harmless, watching us--"

"Never mind," Harper said hastily. "Good point." He turned out the light in Lea’s room and came back. 

Lea was still crying, little hiccups of sobs. Dylan considered. "Rommie, any suggestions on calming Lea?"

"Warm milk."

He rolled his eyes. "I’m all out of livestock. Does soy count?"

"That should work."

"I’m on it," Harper said and got a mug out. Found the soy drink and poured some into the mug. "Why is this supposed to help, Rommie?"

"Amino acids." 

Dylan belatedly realized that not all the dampness in Lea’s sleeper was sweat. "Ah, she’s wet, I’m just going to get her cleaned up."

Harper frowned at him. "You mean--"

Dylan nodded. Lea tended to be mortified by the occasional loss of control, but it was a measure of how distraught she was that she hadn’t, apparently, noticed this one. She didn’t want to let go of him, but once she did, the warm water seemed soothing.

"That’s better," he murmured and squeezed the sponge out over Lea’s back. "That was one helluva bad dream, huh?"

Lea shuddered and put her finger in her mouth. Sucked on it rather frantically.

"There are no bad things here on Andromeda," he said softly. "It was just a bad dream, baby."

Harper came in with a clean sleeper. "Hey, munchkin." 

Dylan shifted to make room for him.

Lea shivered. "Just a dream?" Very faintly.

"Just a dream," Harper said firmly. "We would never let bad things get you, Lea mia."

She sucked on her finger again for a minute, her gaze shifting between them. "Never ever?"

"Never ever." Dylan rubbed her back again. 

"You never give me to the bad things?" Very thin voice, still terrified beneath surface calm.

"Hell, no!" Harper gave Dylan a dark look. "Of course not!"

A very shaky smile. "You never give me to the bad things." 

More confidence there, Dylan noticed. "Of course, not." His gut knotted. "Nobody would." Just a test. A very tentative test.

As he’d feared, she put her finger back in her mouth. 

He could almost feel rage simmering in Harper’s bones; felt his own, like a fever. There wasn’t any point to unleashing it. They had no idea what had happened, it could have been a child’s perception of something completely different.

Lea was quiet, then, but not unhappy. Exhausted, Dylan thought, and she yawned when Harper got her back into her sleeper. Drinking the warm soy completed the process and she snuggled down between them without complaint.

At least for a moment.

"Pali!" Panicked little voice.

Harper sighed. "I’ll get him."

Dylan snorted. "Her."

"Whatever." Harper padded out, padded back in. "We’re not making a habit of this, munchkin. But since you _did_ have such a nasty dream, tonight is okay."

"Okay." Another huge yawn and Lea’s eyes closed.

Harper looked over her at Dylan. "Are you thinking what I’m thinking?" Grimly.

"I’m trying not to," Dylan murmured. "But yes, it has crossed my mind."

"The Tregozzis give you the impression they’d do that to a sick kid?"

He hated to say it. "No. But Fatima did."

Harper nodded, turned the light down. "Yeah."

Dylan rather thought it took both of them a long while to sleep.

  


* * *

"So, do you think you can use some of your contacts to find out where the Falco’s been the last few years?" Dylan looked across the table to see Beka looking... unsettled.

"Do you really think they tried to get rid of her that way?"

"I don’t know. It’s entirely possible they ran into the same thing we did on that scout mission. If so, if those things got on board--it could be nothing more than that."

"You don’t believe that, and neither does Harper." 

He was silent for a moment. "I don’t know." Reluctantly. "I’d say no, I don’t believe it. Fatima didn’t impress me as the essence of sanity, even on short acquaintance."

"What does Harper think?" Beka saw too clearly.

"I think he’s ready to blame Fatima on the strength of her reactions to him and to Lea." Dylan sighed. "You know, I could show her the records we’ve got on the damn things, but what good would that do, beyond terrifying her again? The whole nightmare was probably just as much my fault for pressing her about why the sandspiders scared her. Maybe it was all safely buried in her mind until then."

"If you’re blaming yourself for this, Dylan, it’s time for me to whack you on the side of your head." Beka’s mouth set in a grim line. "So how’s she doing today?"

"Clingy. Jumpy. But better than she was last night. God." He said the last with some violence. "Give her to the bad things. I wanted to vomit."

"No wonder." She sighed.

The door to Lea’s quarters opened, and Harper led Lea in. Beka’s expression changed to a welcoming smile. "Hey, munchkin, where’s your brush? I swear, these guys don’t know what to do with a little girl’s hair, do they."

Lea smiled tentatively. "No bitey things."

"No bitey things," Beka agreed and got up. "Come on, show me your brush, a girl’s gotta look her best."

Even Harper brightened a little. "Yeah, munchkin, being a girl herself, Beka understands these things better."

"Pretty hair like Beka’s?" Lea looked hopeful. 

"Ooooh, I know what to do." Beka scooped her up. "Hey, Rommie, ask Trance to meet me at my quarters."

"Understood." 

Beka grinned at Lea. "We’re going to get Trance to help us, but I promise, no bitey things."

"Isn’t she just a little young for nanobots?" Harper was suddenly skeptical.

"Are you suddenly Mr. Natural?" Beka grinned. "Don’t worry, we won’t do anything too radical."

"Define ‘too radical,’" Dylan suggested, but couldn’t find it in his heart to object. If it cheered Lea, why not?

"Now I’m afraid." But Harper winked at Lea. "Will I even know her when I see her again?"

"Of course!" Beka smirked. "She’ll be the short one calling you Abba."

Lea giggled.

The sound was so normal, Dylan decided that whatever Beka did was fine as long as it shook away Lea’s terror.

He just hoped they didn’t get carried away. "Remember, she’s not even three years old, Beka."

"Oh, I’ll remember." Beka’s voice was abruptly gentle. "But little girls like to feel pretty, too."

He reckoned that was fair enough. Harper shrugged, resigned, leaned in to give Lea a quick hug. "You have to bring her back the same munchkin she was when she left."

"Of course, I will." Gentle again, and Beka suddenly touched Harper’s face. "Believe me, she’s too terrific to change much."

And with that, she swept Lea off, both of them giggling.

  


* * *

Planetside, Dylan was greeted by Cariadne. "You look tired, Captain, I trust everything is all right?"

He grimaced, more comfortable with her than he had been. "I’m afraid we had a disturbed night. Lea had an horrendous nightmare, it took some time to soothe her." God, he was babbling, he was more shaken than he’d realized.

"Children will have them," she said mildly, as he joined her at the head of the table. "More’s the pity."

He nodded. "Unfortunately." The images came back to him, turning his stomach. "Lea wasn’t always with us, I’m afraid. I’ve told you of my relationship to her--and the Tregozzi clan--but she was with her mother’s family until, essentially, they abandoned her to us. That may not be fair--I’m coming to wonder if perhaps Miriam Tregozzi realized that leaving her with us was better for Lea. Not an easy decision to make." 

Cariadne arched an eyebrow, gestured to her aide. "Some coffee, Vivien, if you please."

Slight bow, and Vivien vanished.

He was losing his mind. Or else Cariadne was even better than he’d thought, and he couldn’t stop thinking about Lea’s terror. He sighed. "It’s very hard to know, but some of the things Lea has said are suggestive. Mind, we’re glad to have her, although I’m afraid it was a shock to Harper. He didn’t know she existed." He forebore to mention that he hadn’t known that the first Miriam had borne his child, either. And the only thing thinking about this was doing was unsettling him badly. "At any rate, I’m babbling about personal matters, I can only plead lack of sleep."

"I’m a parent, too, Captain," she said mildly. "So you believe that the little one’s nightmares may be related to something connected to her earlier life?"

"I don’t want to believe it." He said it honestly. "But yes. I’m beginning to fear that’s the case. I know that Miriam Tregozzi wanted very badly for Lea to survive, and her ship lacked the technology and medical resources that Andromeda has. We were, ah, very surprised when the Falco vanished while Lea was on board, but now I can’t honestly remember what it was like without her."

"Children have a way of doing that, no matter how annoying they can be." There was a twinkle in Cariadne’s eye. 

Dylan laughed outright. "She _can_ be a hellion. But it’s just her curiosity driving her. She was so ill when she was on the Falco, she never learned the necessity of a ship’s routine, but she’s so damned smart, once she understood it was necessary, she learned very quickly." His smile dimmed. "I never want to see that child as frightened as she was last night."

"From a nightmare?"

The words escaped him without volition. "I think it was more than a nightmare. I think it was a memory. And who knows, I could be completely wrong."

The other representatives of the Erirtrean government began to file in.

Dylan smiled with difficulty. What in the name of all holy things was the matter with him? "Thank you for letting me babble."

"Parents are the only ones to understand the fears and worries of another parent." She smiled at him kindly. "We have to stick together."

Dylan laughed again. "Thank you. I feel better already."

"Good." Cariadne twinkled at him again. "Ready for some really hard work now? We’ll begin shortly."

Vivien returned with the coffee. Good coffee, too. 

He wondered idly if it would be morally wrong to see if he could work some kind of coffee deal into the charter, settled back to wait until everyone had arrived.

  


* * *

"Hey, Harper, take a look at your pretty girl." Beka’s tone was full of laughter.

Harper pushed his goggles up and peered. Whistled. "Come here, munchkin, and let me have a good look." Beka hadn’t gone too crazy, he thought, relieved. Some trimming here and there, and a little sort of fluffy topknot/pony tail that made him grin. Perhaps the curl on the little ponytail was the main thing. "You like it, Lea mia? Cuz it sure _is_ pretty."

She nodded, a little shy. Ran into his arms and hugged him. Trance, standing nearby, giggled. "See my handses?"

Glittery polish on little bitty fingernails. "Wow, you look all fancy today. Are you sure you’re my Lea mia?" He smiled at her, making sure she got the joke.

She did. She giggled at him. "I’m Lea!"

"Good." He hugged her again. "Somebody smells good, too."

"Just a little bit of floral essence," Trance said happily. "She was so happy."

"We’re all playing hooky today," Beka told him, smiling. "We’re waiting to hear from Dylan, so we’re all playing with Lea."

"Sounds good to me. Let me put up my tools and I’ll help."

"She should be doing her drills." Tyr’s voice.

Harper shook his head. "Not today."

"Repetition is the key--"

"I said not today." He heard his voice get louder. "She gets to play hooky, too."

Tyr studied him silently, nodded. "All right." Mildly.

Beka took a step backward, murmured something to Tyr. He shrugged and went on his way.

"He and I are going to have some trouble," Harper said darkly. "I’m all in favor of the drills, but dammit, she’s not some Nietzschean supertot."

"Nope, she’s a Hunt/Harper supertot," Beka said slyly. "And damned amazing."

Harper smiled in spite of himself. "I don’t get first billing?"

"You’re the most recent, you go last." Beka’s grin was infectious.

"Lea Tregozzi Hunt-Harper?" 

"I’d lose the Tregozzi," Beka advised, "But I admit, I’m a little biased."

"Lea Hunt-Harper? Harper-Hunt?" Harper tickled Lea gently, got her to giggle. "What do you think, Lea mia?"

She giggled and tried to fend him off. He let her win, scooped her up. "I think it’s time for an icy." He gestured grandly at Beka and Trance. "It’s a hooky day, icies all around."

"Icy!" Lea agreed, delighted. "All ‘round!"

Some of the night’s sorrow eased up, seeing that delight. It had been a nightmare. Whatever had caused it, she was happy here. Maybe happier than she’d been in her life.

He hoped to god he was right.

  


* * *

"So you had a hooky day, huh." Dylan was stretched out on the bed with Lea sitting on his chest. "And pretty hair and fingernails. Busy girl."

"I missed you," she told him.

Harper smiled. Dylan was happy, the Erirtreans had decided to join the Commonwealth; Lea was happy again, she’d put the nightmare behind him, he’d hoped.

And he was happy. Just in case Lea hadn’t, he’d come up with a few things that might do the trick for Lea. After all, she knew Abba could make things, and make lots of different things.

He put dinner in the ‘wave and turned it on, moseyed over to sit on the edge of the bed with Lea and Dylan. "Long day?"

Dylan nodded, smiled. "But it was worth it." 

"Yeah, go Commonwealth." Harper put a fist into the air.

"Go, Commonwealth," Lea echoed and did the same.

Dylan belly-laughed at that. "Listen to the two of you."

Harper reached for the topknot. "Is it okay to take this out now, munchkin? I don’t think it will feel good to sleep with it in."

Lea squinched her face at him. "Put it in tomorrow?"

"Of course. But we’ll have to get Beka’s help."

Lea beamed. "I make it curl."

Harper arched an eyebrow. Beka hadn’t said anything about nanobots when all was said and done. "Did you?"

"Yes!" She squinched her face again. 

Dylan laughed, startled, as the little ponytail took on a more definite curl. "By god, she did."

Harper rolled his eyes. "But she’s just a baby, she’s too young for nanobots." Plaintively.

"I not a baby," Lea told him pityingly, "I a big girl."

Dylan was laughing almost too hard to talk.

"You’re a baby to us," Harper told her firmly. "Not even three!"

"I’m this many!" She held up two fingers. "That’s a big girl. Beka says."

Dylan was no help, he only put his hand over his mouth. 

"Beka’s partly right. You’re not a tiny baby, but you’re still Abba’s baby." God, to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He sounded like the worst of holodramas. "And Dylan’s," he said pointedly, but all that did was make Dylan whoop again. "It’s your turn to get her ready for bed," he told Dylan, who wiped his eyes.

"Ah, god, you’re conservative for a wild man." Dylan sat up, pretended to bonk heads with Lea, who chortled. "A few little nanobots to curl her hair is hardly a sign she’s going to run off with a freighter pilot next week."

"Damned right, it’s not. I know pilots," Harper retorted. "No way is one of them getting close to her. Even when she _is_ grown up."

"We’re going to have our hands full with Abba," Dylan told Lea.

"Oh, yeah, like you’re going to be any different. You _are_ a pilot." Harper smirked.

Dylan considered that "Good point. You’re going to have your hands full with both of us, baby."

"Okay," she said cheerily. 

Dylan grinned. "I brought you something for your bath. To make it smell pretty."

Lea brightened. "A prezzie?"

Harper eyed her. "Where did you get that word?"

"Beka." Lea blinked at him. "She say my nanos are a prezzie."

"Great, now Beka is getting cute." Harper rolled his eyes. "Present, Lea."

Lea’s expression was puzzled. "That’s what I say. Prezzie."

"Oh." Harper bit his lip. Dylan seemed to be trying hard not to crack up again. "Okay, present."

"Yes," Dylan said, his voice a little strangled. "I brought you a present. To make your bath smell pretty."

"That’s kind of a weird present for a two year old," Harper observed.

"It’s herbal," Dylan told him, "Supposed to help her sleep."

"Ah. What did you bring me?"

"Do you deserve a present?" Dylan’s tone was interested.

"Don’t I always?" 

"You’re getting terribly spoilt, I see that now. And yes, I did, actually." Dylan’s eyes gleamed. "You don’t get yours until later."

The ‘wave pinged. "Dinner," Harper said and got up. Dylan followed him in a minute later, Lea on his shoulders. "No fair, I can’t reach that high."

Dylan grinned, flipped Lea down to the accompaniment of giggles and shrieks of delight.

Harper caught her, squeezed her to make her giggle again and put her in her chair. Dinner was uneventful, except that Lea, midway through, began to doze into her dish, which made a rescue necessary.

Dylan, heedless of his uniform, did the honors and she sat drowsily in his lap and ate another ‘icy’. 

"Bath," Dylan said finally.

"I dunno, I don’t think she’s going to have much trouble sleeping," Harper said doubtfully.

"There is that," Dylan admitted and examined a small hand. "Not too bad, maybe we can get by with a wipedown."

Harper grinned. "I’ll get a washcloth."

"I’ll get a sleeper," Dylan said and grinned. "Come on, baby, time to get out of those clothes."

"Okay." She was almost half-asleep already, Harper noted. He came back with a warm, damp cloth to find Dylan had gotten Lea’s coverall off and that he was examining Lea’s back, smoothing his fingertips over it with Lea snuggled into his chest.

"Look at this," Dylan said quietly.

Harper looked. "Yeah, I’ve seen that before." He’d always thought it was some kind of birthmark, a small red mark just below Lea’s nape. 

"Put your finger there." Very quietly, and Dylan guided his fingertip to the base of Lea’s skull, underneath the soft curls. "Feel that? Or am I imagining it?"

He frowned, focused. Felt a faint irregularity. Moved his fingertip down to the mark on the back of Lea’s neck. "They feel the same," he said, wishing it wasn’t true.

Dylan nodded.

"That tickles," Lea said sleepily.

"Sorry, baby." Dylan kissed the top of her head. "Here, let’s get turned around a little so we can get your face clean."

She obediently shifted, tipped her face up for Harper. "She’s a damn good kid," he said huskily, swallowing hard. "Bastards."

"Who is bastards?" Lea blinked at him.

"Bad people." He kissed her forehead, wiped her face clean, got her hands, too. "But Lea is a good kid."

Lea gave him a sweetly loopy grin. "I love you, Abba."

"Ditto, munchkin." His throat ached. 

Dylan’s eyes were darkened, he’d seen that look after Bannon. He lifted Lea, cradling her against his shoulder. 

Unsettled, Harper followed him into Lea’s room. She woke up more fully, peering around. "No bad things here."

"Never." Dylan’s voice was very gentle, but a muscle in his jaw jumped.

"Never," Harper echoed. "I put in some things to make extra sure, things that will keep bad things from ever getting in."

"Where?" She peered around again.

"Right here." He went to one corner. "See this? It’s a shield, bad things can’t get past it."

She goggled. "Ever?"

"Ever." Firmly.

He rather thought Dylan’s mouth twitched, but that was better than the rage. 

Lea sighed with relief. "Okay. That’s a Good thing."

"Yes, it is." ylan put her down on her bed, went to get her a sleeper. 

Feeling obsessive, Harper got into bed with her, began to check out every centimeter under the pretext of fake tickling. He found another pair of spots on the back of her left leg, and one just under her left buttock. He wasn’t going to strip off her skivvies to check, damned if he would, but he was going to look next time he bathed her for damned sure.

Dylan came over as he was pretending to tickle, saw the spots and nodded grimly. They got her into her sleeper and then soothed her down by taking turns telling the Palimari story she loved.

She was nearly asleep already when Dylan drew Harper away and looking very small and helpless snuggled around Pali with one small hand turned up trustfully.

Harper leaned into Dylan. "I want to kill something or someone," he whispered.

Dylan’s arms went around him tight. "Don’t think about it." Urgently. "Just be glad she survived, that she’s here."

"I am." He took in a breath. "I remember rats. You know, from when I was little. I remember how bad they scared me. I got bitten once, when I was about Lea’s age, and I remember screaming bloody murder. And I could move, I hit it with something and then my dad came in and smashed it. Lea couldn’t move, Dylan. Remember, she couldn’t move."

"Stop it." Dylan’s voice was hoarse. "Don’t do this to yourself. Harper, she’ll hear you."

He pressed his face into Dylan’s shirt. A too vivid imagination, that was the problem, he could imagine how scared a little tiny kid would be. "How big were they?"

"Don’t." More firmly and Dylan was practically rocking him. "Don’t, Harper. What I know is bad, what you imagine is bad, I’m not giving you the reality to make it worse."

Which, he supposed, was one of the reasons he was crazy about Dylan. Even when Dylan sometimes drove him nuts. He grabbed hold, took in deep breaths. Dylan was right. What was important was that Lea was okay. That she was better than okay. And that she didn’t have to worry that anyone was going to try to get rid of her. Even when Dylan had considered it, it had been because Dylan was as scared as he was, just a different kind of scared.

"Okay. I’m good. I’m good." He practically chanted it. "Really.

"You’re better than good," Dylan said huskily. "You just don’t always know it."

He laughed through his nose, rubbed his face in Dylan’s shirt again. "You’re biased."

"Only a little." Dylan hugged him hard. "Come on, let’s have a drink to celebrate a new Commonwealth member."

"Sounds good to me. When we going to have a party?"

"Every ten." Dylan released him, grinned. "Don’t you think that’s enough?"

"Hey, we’re getting closer. Seven." Oddly, he felt better. A lot better. Clearer. Cleaner. He knew the worst, now. And that was past. "I have a better idea for celebrating that doesn’t involve a hangover."

Dylan arched an eyebrow. "I’m open to suggestions."

Harper grinned. "You always are," he said, "You always are."

Dylan began to chuckle.

  


* * *

Long hot luxurious bath, long and lazy lovemaking, and Harper was gone, totally out. Dylan was close, but every little sound on the comm brought him back awake again. He’d told Harper the truth, he knew how bad the reality was. 

He didn’t know how Lea had survived. Someone had worked hard to get rid of her, someone else must have worked hard to save her. Five bites had killed a full grown adult. They’d found the marks of at least two on Lea, possibly three. Someone, perhaps her grandmother, the medical officer, had managed to save her.

Someone else had to have tried to kill her. And no matter how he tried to twist his mind around the reasoning, he couldn’t get there.

Lea made a little sound in her sleep and he opened his eyes, waited. Another little sigh and murmur and she was quiet. 

Harper shifted against him, made a similar murmur.

He smiled in the darkness, put a hand on Harper’s hip. Rubbed it lightly. He could spare Harper the reality, at least; Harper’s imagination was bad enough.

It was a long time before he slept, though. And when he woke, Harper was gone and the chron was telling him that Harper had turned off the alarm and let him sleep. Well, what the hell, they were still in orbit; he rolled over and went back to sleep.

A small weight on his chest woke him, he cracked open one eyelid to see a pensive Lea sitting there. Yawned. "Good morning, minx."

"Abba got a big ow," she informed him.

He came upright so quickly he had to catch Lea to keep from knocking her down. "What kind of ow?"

"Chill, I’m fine," Harper said from the other side of the divider. "Tyr and I had a difference of opinion, and I managed to keep from doing anything suicidal."

"Abba hit the wall, like this--" Lea made a fist, mimed the action.

"Tattletale," Harper said, leaning against the divider. "You want some coffee?"

Dylan narrowed his eyes, studied Harper. "Devoutly."

"Coming up."

"What kind of difference of opinion?"

Harper returned with a steaming mug, handed it to Dylan. "On the proper age to begin weapons training."

Dylan opened his mouth. Closed it again. Took a sip of coffee. 

"I managed to make my point, I think." Harper examined puffy knuckles. "But I was pretty pissed. Rev figured out what he was doing, put a stop to it and told me."

Lea sucked on her finger thoughtfully, eyes wide.

"Good for Rev." Dylan took another sip. "I’ll, ah, have a few words with Tyr."

Harper smiled grimly. "If you want. I think I made it pretty clear."

"And the wall?"

"It was pretty pissed, but I think we’ll work it out." Brief spark of humor, and some of the grimness eased up.

"That’s not what I meant." Dryly.

"I was pretty pissed off."

"Abba was mad," Lea agreed solemnly.

"It sounds like it." Dylan sighed, took Harper’s hand gently to examine it. "Did you get Trance to have a look at it?"

"Just bruised, Dylan, I’m not that dumb." Harper smiled at him. "But yeah, she insisted."

"Good for her." 

Another smile. "I hate to do this, but if I give you enough time for a shower, think you could fill in today? Beka’s downside, and Trance has got some experiment going on. I’ve got some engine maintenance scheduled, and somehow, I don’t think it’s a good idea for the munchkin to keep me company in there."

"The mind reels," Dylan agreed. He was pleased, actually; Harper bent over backwards to keep Lea’s schedule from impinging on Dylan’s, avoided asking him. "Yeah, I think I can do that. Just let her play, I think we’ll do all right while I’m showering."

Harper looked askance at that. "Can you be good for Dylan?"

"I be good." A little indignantly. "I be very good."

Dylan grinned. "Consider yourself damn well told."

Harper laughed. "I do, I do." He kissed the tip of Lea’s nose. "Okay, let Dylan finish his coffee in peace, munchkin, and I’ll see you later." Swinging her up off the bed, Harper put her down, gave her a nudge toward her room.

She chortled and scampered. Harper looked after her for a moment, his face serious, then turned and grinned at Dylan. "She’s getting feisty."

"Takes after her father," Dylan said dryly.

"Hah." Harper leaned in and kissed him. "Later, boss."

Dylan aimed a swat, missed and leaned back against the pillows, listening to Harper’s laughter as the door closed behind him.

He savored the unaccustomed laziness, savored the coffee, even savored the faint sound of Lea’s voice as she talked to herself or her toys.

At least until he finally made out what he was saying. 

"No bad things, ever, never, never, ever," she chanted. "No bad bitey things, Abba and Dylan make them stay far, far away."

Troubled, Dylan got out of bed, put on a robe and went to stand in the door to Lea’s quarters.

She was sitting in her bed, lining up her toys on the shelf at the back and clutching Pali. Bright smile when she saw him. "Dylan!"

"Lea," he said and smiled. "What are you doing?"  
  
"See, I put my toys up." She beamed at him.  
  
He chuckled. "Good girl."  
  
She scrambled out of bed. "You take you shower?"  
  
"Not yet, baby. I’m just finishing my coffee."  
  
She tilted her head. "I have a taste?"  
  
"I don’t think you’ll like it," he said and crouched to let her have a sip.  
  
She made a face and shuddered. "Nasty."  
  
"It’s an acquired taste," he told her. "Okay, let me get my shower and we’ll figure out what we’ll be doing."  
  
Bright-eyed look. "I take shower, too?"  
  
Dylan considered that. Harper would probably have a stroke, but he couldn’t really see the harm in it; Lea was still a baby, however "big" she thought she was. "Sure, come on."  
  
She shrieked with delight when he lifted her into the spray, put out her hands and deflected it. His father, Dylan thought, amused, would have enjoyed this child, so intent on learning everything there was to learn. Hell, _he_ enjoyed this child, which was just as well, considering that she was very likely to be the only child in his life. His and Harper’s, which made him chuckle again, thinking about the net of synchronicity that had required.  
  
His pleasure in her delight lasted through the requisite questions about body parts and differences, getting shampoo in one eye (hers) and getting it back out again. It lasted, in fact, until he noticed the small red marks on her buttocks. Three of them. One to match the scar on her upper thigh and two more as a pair.  
  
He left her in the shower while he dried himself, keeping one eye on her while she played; bundled in a towel, she shrieked in delight when he tossed her on the bed, giggled happily while he helped her into her clothes and brushed her hair.  
  
"Okay," he said, once he was dressed and groomed. "Let’s go."  
  
She got up from the floor and came to him obediently, took his hand. "Where we go?"  
  
"We’re going to go see Rommie and get a checkup."  
  
"What’s a checkup?"   
  
"I just want Rommie to check you and make sure you’re as healthy as you seem to be," he explained. "On med-deck."  
  
Lea looked askance at that. "No biting."  
  
He laughed. "Rommie doesn’t bite."  
  
"That pinchy bite," Lea grumbled, and rubbed her leg. "That hurts."  
  
"Ah, well, I don’t think you have to have any more injections, baby. You’re pretty healthy these days. I just want to make sure."  
  
Lea sighed, apparently resigned; on the way to med-deck, Dylan discovered that Lea had taken to greeting the drones with "Hi, ‘bot." Since there were, after all, a fair number of drones on any given level, that necessitated a good many greetings, and by the time they reached med-deck, he was laughing almost too hard to request Rommie’s presence.  
  
Lea, for her part, sat patiently while Rommie ran a scan and examined the scars on her nape and scalp. "If she survived--which is actually fairly impressive--there shouldn’t be any further effect. Although we don’t have a great deal of data on the arachnoids, we know that their venom is a fast acting paralytic toxin, and that they lay eggs in their paralyzed prey."  
  
Dylan’s stomach did a lazy roll. "And?"  
  
"And clearly, Lea was rescued before the latter occurred." Rommie’s eyebrows slanted downward. "I admit, I can’t imagine under what circumstances she encountered the arachnoids, given her condition when she came on board."  
  
"Is there any data at all on possible long term effects?" Lea was bored; she was fastening and unfastening the straps on her shoes.  
  
"Of the venom? Not that I’m aware of, but there may be some recent studies I don’t have."  
  
"See what you can find out."  
  
Rommie nodded. "Dylan, if they cleaned the toxin out of her system, I would anticipate no further effect physically. I would think that the traumatic nature of the event would be the only long term effect."  
  
Dylan nodded. "Okay, you’re done," he told Lea, who promptly restrapped her shoe and tried to wriggle down off the examining table. "Hold it, hold it, let me give you a hand--" He caught her as she slid, set her on her feet.  
  
"Bye bye, Rommie." Relieved smile upward. "I see you later."  
  
Rommie’s mouth quirked, she exchanged a look with Dylan that was almost amused. "Right you are, Lea."  
  
He was still smiling when he led Lea out.  
  
A late breakfast in the officers’ mess and Dylan took her back to his quarters to get some of the less attractive work done. Lea played with an assortment of toys at his feet, under his desk, talking almost inaudibly to herself as she did.  
  
The occasional broken night aside, he thought, she really wasn’t a great deal of trouble; he was able to immerse himself in logs and communiqués and balance sheets without distraction.  
  
At least until he heard his name. He waited, glanced beneath the desk to see Lea absorbed in her own activities. Whatever she was playing, poor Pali was suffering horrendous attack from little fingers. "Bite, bite," she crooned, "Bad bitey things, poor Pali."  
  
Dylan opened his mouth, closed it again.   
  
Another toy swooped in, evidently to save poor Pali, and suffered a similar attack, but then someone came to the rescue. One or more than one, he wasn’t sure, because Lea slipped into Chari then. He caught "Abba" and "Dylan," and then Pali miraculously rose and was evidently spontaneously cured.  
  
"All better," Lea pronounced softly and then glanced up to see him. "I bother you?" Worriedly.  
  
"Not a bit," he told her, although it was a lie. "Are you ready for a drink?"  
  
"Okay." She climbed up onto his knee. "You mad?"  
  
"Of course not." He smiled at her, trying to erase whatever she’d seen in his eyes. "Let’s get you a drink."  
  
She drank thirstily and went back to her play, but it was more difficult for Dylan to focus again on his work. For whatever reason, Lea must feel safe enough now if she was acting out little psychodramas with her toys, he had to look at it that way.  
  
But he hoped profoundly that she didn’t act that one out in front of Harper.  


  


* * *

Harper nearly collided with Beka as he turned the last corner before Dylan’s quarters. His quarters. Their quarters.

That was so freaking weird a thought that he almost couldn’t handle it. Cagey Dylan, slipping it in there so sneakily, and Harper had just gone past it without panicking until later.

Beka grinned at him. "Where’s the kidlet?"

"With Dylan." He lifted his chin. "Hopefully not driving him batshit."

"Oh, please, like he doesn’t have it as bad as you do." Beka smirked and held up a package. "I got her some more clothes."

"Beka, she has plenty of clothes." He was amused anyway. If Beka had a maternal bone in her body, he had yet to see it, but she was all over this godmother/aunt thing like white on rice.

"Totally blah coveralls," Beka said scathingly. "That might have cut it on the Falco, but we’ve got standards to uphold on Andromeda." She eyed his pants. "At least the female half of the crew does."

"Who died and made you the fashion police?" He grinned at her meaningful expression. "Never mind, there’s no accounting for taste."

"My point being that she needs a little more individuality than her Falco coveralls would suggest. Besides, she’s outgrown them."

"We could ceremonially burn them," Harper suggested. The way he felt right now, ceremonial fire might help keep him from killing the next Falco crewmember he saw.

"Works for me." She swung into step beside him. "She’s a tough little git, Harper. She’s got you and Dylan and the rest of us--and even if Tyr would rather be flayed alive than admit it, I think she’s even suckered him a little."

"Great, just what I need. He just better remember she’s my kid, not his."

"Oh, he does, and he’s practically seething with envy." Beka’s grin was crooked. 

He keyed open the door. Dylan was at his desk, working; he glanced up at Harper and smiled, held his finger to his lips.

Curious, Harper came around the side of the desk, found Lea sleeping on her side with Pali tucked against her chest. "Any trouble?" he asked softly.

"Not a bit." Dylan raised an eyebrow at Beka. "Don’t tell me, you’ve been shopping again."

"Doing my bit for building our rapport with the Erirtrean economy," Beka said smartly.

Lea sat up suddenly and put a fist in one eye. "Dylan?"

Harper crouched. "Hey, sleepyhead. Beka brought you some more presents."

"These aren’t presents, these are necessities," Beka said dryly. "She’s starting to look like you picked her clothes out of the dock dumpsters."

"Hey, you’re going to hurt her feelings," Harper muttered and lifted Lea out from under the desk.

Beka promptly took the kid away from him. "And, I met someone at the spaceport I knew from a long time ago, a freelance cargo pilot. He, ah, connected me to find those routes you were asking about."

"Hi, Beka." Lea smiled sleepily. "Did you brought me presents?"

"Not presents, sweetie, but some new stuff. You’re getting to be such a big girl, you’re outgrowing all your clothes." Beka sat Lea down on Dylan’s desk and put the package next to her. In spite of himself, Harper leaned over to see what she’d gotten.

"Get back," Beka told him firmly and pulled something silky out. Something silky and purple. "Here we have a nice practical jumpsuit for the well dressed spacer-girl."

"Practical?" Harper’s jaw dropped. "You’re kidding, right?"

"I’m not. This is washable, wear-dated, _and_ has a little growing room because of the fabric." Beka smirked. "Very washable, in fact."

Lea was wide-eyed. "That for me?"

"Yes, ma’am, it certainly is." Beka smiled at her. "It’s also fully insulated for a small person, and with one easy tab pull, allows her to get dressed or undressed herself."

Lea touched the fabric timidly. "I can touch?"

"Of course you can, baby," Beka told her. "This is for you."

"So pretty," Lea marveled. "An’ soft."

Dylan’s eyebrows were making a serious attempt to meet his hairline. Harper closed his mouth, suddenly aware that it was open.

Beka pulled something else out of the bag. "And here’s something to put in your hair that doesn’t bite." 

Lea was still entranced with the jumpsuit. "Okay."

Beka laughed softly.

Harper counted six little outfits before he gave up. "What or who did you sell to buy these things?"

"I fronted her some currency," Dylan said mildly. "I just didn’t realize how canny she was at bargaining."

"I did very well," Beka said, with great satisfaction. "You guys just don’t know, even a little tiny girl likes to feel like she’s rockin’."

Dylan laughed softly. "I suppose that’s true. I guess I didn’t realize that she didn’t."

Harper scowled. Lea was still hypnotized by the colors and softness of the fabrics. "She does." A little irritably.

Beka eyed him. "She’s still your daughter, Seamus, I’m not stealing her. I’m just doing what every good godmother and honorary aunt should do. Besides, Trance helped."

Put that way-- "Sorry," he muttered.

"You’re doing the hard part," Beka told him. "I get to swoop in and do the glamorous stuff."

Bizarre to feel better with that comment, but he did. He picked Lea up again, kissed her hair. "Hey, you smell good, munchkin, you get a bath today?"

"I tooked a shower. I put this on?"

He gaped at her. "You did what?"

"I tooked a shower." Patiently. "I put this on now?" Held up the purple thing.

"How did you take a shower?"

"With Dylan. I put this on?" A little fretfully.

"Uh, sure." He set her on her feet, shot a look at Dylan. "You took a shower with her?"

"Yeah. But it’s Beka’s turn next." Dylan’s mouth twitched.

Beka looked horrified. "Mine? Why mine?"

"Reassurance," Dylan said succinctly.

"About what?"

Abruptly, it struck Harper as hilarious. "Ah."

"Ah, what?" Beka turned on him. 

"Anatomy," Dylan said, and arched an eyebrow at Beka.

Beka’s eyes widened, and her mouth quirked. "Ah. I get it. Can do. But only once. Any more reassurance required, she’s going to have to shower with Trance."

"As long as she doesn’t decide she wants a tail," Dylan added dryly.

Lea, meanwhile, had gotten her shoes and socks off and was struggling with her coverall. Beka crouched and assisted before Harper could move. Dylan stood up. "Beka, I think Harper can manage that, and I still want to hear what your friend told you." Irritable tone.

Harper grinned, took her place. Chivvied Lea out of the coverall and into the jumpsuit. Did kids really wear stuff like that? He was going to reserve judgement until he saw how well the damn thing lasted through everyday wear and tear. After all, Lea wasn’t exactly a run of the mill kid.

He did have to admit she looked dangerously cute in it. "Pretty girl," he said, to make her smile. "You like?"

Shy smile and she put her arms around his neck, giggled. "Okay, you get your toys and take ‘em back to your room so Dylan doesn’t step on them."

She let go of him and scrambled under Dylan’s desk. He moved to stand behind Beka, who was tracing a route on Dylan’s viewscreen. Dylan’s expression was grim. "So, about six months ago, they’d have been in the area of Karidi."

"Looks that way." Beka nodded.

Dylan looked at both of them. Touched his keypad and brought up a stellar map. "There’s a comparatively small station here. Or was. I’ve had Rommie sort through all news broadcasts concerning deaths or disappearances in this sector, and Chi station was the event of note about four and a half months ago. Not all that far from Karidi. While no trace of the station inhabitants was found, fibrous strands of something unidentifiable _were_."

Beka nodded. "You think that’s where the Falco encountered them."

"Maybe." Dylan touched the keypad, brought up a still image of the inside of the station. Something that looked creepily like spiderwebs festooned a gaily-lit boutique. "If they did, they didn’t report it. It was an ore freighter that reported the disappearance of everyone on the station." 

Lea popped up then, Pali and her other things clutched tight. "What that?" Standing on her toes, she tried to see the viewscreen--there was a gassy little shriek and it took at least two heartbeats for Harper to realize that it had come from Lea.

Everything happened very fast, too fast; Dylan swore and slammed the screen down, caught hold of Lea as she pitched forward, eyes rolling up in her head. He’d gotten to his knees by then, and both of them were holding on. She was limp, scarily limp and Dylan let go, let him take her.

Harper wasn’t sure she was breathing, that’s how panicked he was; but she opened her eyes and drew breath on a wail. "S’okay, s’okay, s’okay." Practically crooning it to her, and she put her face in his neck, clutched at him. "It’s just a bad picture, Lea mia, it’s just a picture."

"Bad place." Muffled voice.

Dylan was white to the lips. "That answers that." Rustily.

What the _hell_ had they all been thinking? She was a kid, she wasn’t blind, she wasn’t stupid. "Yeah." Tightly. He turned and walked away, took Lea into her room. "See? We’re here, right here on Andromeda, we’re not at the bad place. We’re not going to _go_ to the bad place, either."

"Never ever." Very thin little voice. "Never ever, Abba?"

"Never ever." Harper walked her around her room. "Okay? You okay, Lea mia?"

"Uh-huh." She took in a breath. "No bad things here."

"Nope." 

"Never ever."

"Never ever," Dylan said from the doorway. He looked as terrible as Harper felt. He felt a mean gladness about that, regretted it immediately and veered in his course, walked over to Dylan and they both got Dylan’s arms around them. "I’m so sorry." A whisper, and Harper wasn’t sure if Dylan was saying it to Lea or to him or to both of them.

"Never ever," Lea said and shivered, raised her head, offered them both a shaky smile. "Right?"

"Right," Harper told her, even though his throat ached. "Absolutely right."

"Absolutely." Dylan’s voice wasn’t any better.

Lea put a fist in one eye, yawned. "Good."

From total terror to a yawn. Harper felt hysterical laughter threaten. "You want some lunch?"

"Yes." She looked at Dylan, hilariously concerned. "You okay, Dylan?"

Dylan’s gaze met his momentarily. "I’m fine, baby."

She patted him. "Don’t be sad."

"I’ll try not to." Solemnly.

"Yeah, what she said," Harper told Dylan roughly and hugged him one armed. "You wanna take the pretty girl, I’ll throw some lunch together."

Dylan’s expression was grateful. "I’d be delighted."

He thought about that gratitude while he heated something for lunch and got Lea a cup of her soy. He’d been snarky with Beka about Lea. He didn’t think he was that way with Dylan. He hoped he wasn’t. If it hadn’t been for Dylan--if it hadn’t been for Dylan’s calm on various occasions, he pretty much thought he’d have gone into permanent freakout mode.

For a minute, he’d blamed Dylan, never mind he’d been standing there discussing Chi station with them. Like Dylan wouldn’t blame himself enough for any three people. He looked over to see them back at Dylan’s desk. Whatever was on the screen was making Lea lean forward with interest, so it sure as hell wasn’t killer spiders or creepy stations. 

"How many is that?" Lea asked.

"Lots," Dylan said. "Hold up all your fingers."

She giggled and did. Dylan solemnly counted them, counted them again, counted them again. She was giggling nonstop now, and every time Dylan started over on her fingers, she laughed harder.

"That’s too many!"

"I know," Dylan said feelingly. "Three hundred years too many. But if I hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to meet you and Abba."

"That’s silly," she said, "you have me."

"And you’ve got me," Harper said, looking over at Dylan.

Oh, yeah, that was a great idea, Dylan gave him one of those bone-melting smiles. "And I’m damn glad of it."

"I damn glad, too."

"That’s a bad word," they both said, practically in unison, and Harper cracked up.

Bad times, good times--jeez, he was turning into a real adult after all.

That was just as scary as "our" quarters. And just as satisfying.

  


* * *

"So what are you going to do with what you’ve found out?" Beka leaned against the pilot’s chair. 

"I’m going to use it as leverage if I ever need to." Dylan said it dryly. "While I realize there’s no centralized authority, per se, I feel pretty certain that if it were known that the Falco stopped at Chi and didn’t report the disaster, their reputation would suffer."

"You aren’t kidding," Beka said feelingly. "There’s shit you just don’t do out here, and that’s one thing. The crew on the freighter could have just as easily disappeared if those things were still on the station. And speaking of that, Dylan, how in the _hell_ did they get off the station."

"They don’t appear to have trouble with vacuum. To my knowledge, no one has managed to dissect one of the things, but Rommie’s continuing her data search." Erirtrea was small on the viewscreen. Dylan smiled at that. "Another success. I know I was irritated, but I hope you know that I’m impressed you and Trance figured out why they were reluctant."

She mock-punched his shoulder. "You’re getting mellow. Fatherhood agrees with you."

"Grandfatherhood. Or something."

"Oh, please." She shook her head. "Whatever. You’re just as much a father to her as Harper. Please do _not_ tell him I said that, he’s getting very territorial."

Dylan smiled faintly. "He is, but I think that relates more to Tyr."

"Maybe." Beka’s tone was skeptical. "He’s gotten a little starchy with me a couple of times."

"He’s feeling his way." It _did_ make him feel a little wistful. He tried very hard not to step on Harper’s toes in that regard, and Harper seemed to be doing fine, better than Harper might believe. 

"At least he’s relaxing a little. For a while, I thought there was some weird sort of osmosis was going on. You were mellowing and he was getting anal-retentive."

"Captain Valentine," he said dryly, "I’m not _that_ mellow."

She grinned. "Ooops."

He laughed. "God, you sound like Lea. Harper said when she glued her hand to her hair, his first warning was this little voice saying ‘oops.’"

"She’s a character." Beka chuckled. "Okay, you’re relieved."

He put his hands in the grips. "Mine," he said firmly. "Go away."

"Now who sounds like Lea," she said, laughing. "Get out of here. Go mellow some more. You’ve been here for ten hours."

"Yeah, but I’m the captain."

"And whining is undignified." She pointed.

He sighed. "You’re getting entirely too insubordinate."

"Live with it." Beka grinned at him. "Besides, Harper’s gotta need rescuing by now."

"Maybe." He got up anyway. Each little bit of information on Chi station left him more and more melancholy. At least he had sense enough to keep all discussion of Chi out of his quarters. Or Lea’s. 

What had happened to Lea? That was the question eating him alive. Oh, he kept it under control, he thought, and listened to Harper rage on occasion when Lea did or said something that reminded all of them.

Yesterday, Lea had re-enacted her little psychodrama in Harper’s hearing. He’d had to physically restrain Harper to keep him from disturbing her, from asking questions. Only for a moment, Harper wasn’t stupid, but then he had to stay calm in the face of Harper’s rage when all he really wanted to do was to find the Falco and lob a well placed nova bomb at it.

Insanity. He knew it was insanity. The ship had other innocents on it. The only ones he could be certain of were the children, of course, but that was more than enough.

He wanted someone’s blood in his fists. 

That was part of what depressed him. He’d thought he was too rational for that kind of rage. Killing Martin had left guilt enough, and god knew, Martin had deserved killing.

Rev had Lea at this hour, he thought, but Harper was undoubtedly going to get her. So he went straight to his quarters and poured himself a drink. 

He was brooding at his desk when the door opened and Harper was preceded in by a very talkative small person. 

Harper eyed him, but Lea headed straight for the desk and climbed into his lap. "I missed you!" 

"But you saw me at lunch," he teased. "That wasn’t a long time ago."

"Yes, it was." Fervently. "I winned again on my drill."

"She did," Harper said, and took off his toolbelt. "We were gonna head over to command deck to get you, but Rommie said you were here already." 

Dylan smiled a little ruefully. "I was thrown off my own bridge."

"Really." Harper’s mouth quirked. "Well, it was a long day for everybody. Good thing we’ve got a little shore leave coming up."

Dylan arched an eyebrow. "Do we?" Teasing again.

"Damn right we do." Harper grinned. "I already bribed Trance and Beka to give us a twenty-four-hour kid-free zone."

Lea fiddled with his buckles. "Take this off."

"Yes, ma’am," he agreed and undid them, shrugged out of his jacket. "You’re a sassy little thing today."

"Is sassy bad?"

"Mmmm, sometimes." He narrowed his eyes. "Sometimes it’s not, though."

"I be good," Lea promised, put her arms around his neck and gave him a great, smacking kiss on the cheek. "Ick, you have that nasty stuff again."

Harper looked over at him again, frowned a little. "You okay?"

"Fine." He looked back, patently innocent. "You?"

Harper studied him. "Yeah. Lea, don’t put your shoes on Dylan’s pants. She was in hydroponics watering again."

"That’s what laundry facilities are for." Dylan shifted Lea to sit on his knee. "What else did you do today, minx?"

"I writed my name." She beamed at him. "Rev showed me."

"Really? That’s pretty impressive. You know, you’ve got a birthday coming up soon, I think."

"Two more months," Harper said from the kitchen area. 

"Two more months. Not even three and you’re writing your name. That’s very good."

Lea beamed. "And I learned all my letters." She rattled off the Common alphabet, and started on the Vedran.

"Whoa," Dylan said, impressed. "Vedran, too."

"Yeah, Rev asked if it was okay. I said hell, yes." Harper put something into the ‘wave and punched the controls. "If she’s game, go for it."

"She’s young enough."

"And I figured you could help her." Harper came to study him again, hands on his hips. 

"I’m afraid my Vedran’s a bit rusty."

"S’more than I’ve got." Harper grinned. "Remember? I’m a Terran mudfoot."

He smiled again. "Don’t sell yourself short."

"Facts is facts," Harper said and went back into the kitchen area. 

He sighed. Well, he had these bouts on occasion, he just hadn’t had one for a while. He hadn’t had one that lasted like this for a while. Lea leaned back against his chest, and he twined a lock of silky hair around his finger. "Abba," Lea said imperiously. "Dylan is sad."

Startled, he looked down at her, looked up at Harper who was standing there again, hands on his hips. "You’re brooding," Harper told him.

Dylan grimaced. "Yeah, I suppose I am."

"You want to talk about it?"

"Not at the moment." He glanced down meaningfully and Harper nodded. "I’m not sad, exactly, Lea. Just... a little."

"How come?" She looked up at him.

He smiled ruefully at her. "Maybe I’m working too hard."

"Stop that." She smiled winningly. "Abba will help."

"Abba already helps. Quite a lot." He touched the tip of her nose. "And maybe we should be helping Abba."

"Abba," Harper said, "is starving. That would be great."

Dinner proceeded more or less normally, and once that was done, Harper took Lea off for her bath.

Feeling obsessive, Dylan brought up the most recent results of Rommie’s ongoing search. As if Magog weren’t enough, he had the suspicion that the arachnoids were spreading out in an ever-widening circle. He’d passed on his concerns and the available data to each station and Drift that they passed, shared it with the Than and other planetary governments. One freighter, a freelance cargo carrier and a cruise ship appeared on the list of suspiciously missing craft; he studied the reports vainly, absorbed in them, and nearly had his heart stop when Harper touched his shoulder.

"You gotta stop, Dylan." Soberly. "You’re making yourself nuts."

He sighed. "I know, I know. Time for her story?"

"Yeah." Harper smiled a little. "She’s picking one she thinks will cheer you up."

Dylan chuckled. "Let me guess. Palimari?"

"Bingo." 

"It’ll cheer someone up," Dylan said and rose, put an arm around Harper’s shoulder. "You know, I wonder if Trance could be bribed for forty-eight hours."

Delighted gleam in Harper’s eyes. "Oh, I’ll bet I can work something out."

"Good." Quick squeeze, and Dylan went to read the story.

  


* * *

"Okay, so I’m worried, sue me." Harper looked up at Beka. "You’re the one he talks to about those goddamn things, he doesn’t want to freak me out."

Beka shrugged, sat down on the floor of the machine shop with him. "Hand me a Sparky."

"I thought you hated Sparky."

"I’m feeling the need for caffeine." She took the can he handed her, opened it. "Yeah, I’m a little worried. You know, he’s getting a little obsessed by these things. Well, maybe a lot obsessed, but they’re pretty freaking creepy. They can travel in vacuum, they paralyze their victims and lay eggs--at least the Magog need ships."

"I’m not sure that’s a good thing." Harper took a swallow. "I’m not sure which of us is more fucked up at the moment. I wanna kill Fatima and he wants to kill those things."

"You can’t kill Fatima, you’d be the first suspect." Beka sighed. "You want to know what I think? I think it’s the uncertainty. I think if Dylan knew exactly what happened, he’d be doing better. You both have very active imaginations."

Harper nodded. Ran his thumb over the curve of the can. "Maybe. I’m afraid if I knew exactly what happened, I really would kill Fatima."

"You’d have to find her first. And then beat me to it." Grimly. "She recognized that part of Chi station."

"Yeah." 

They sat in silence for a moment.

Beka took another sip of her Sparky. "Is that why you’ve been dumping Lea on him more lately?"

"I’m not dumping her," Harper protested. He shifted uncomfortably, looked away. "I mean, really, he’s sort of her dad, too. About eight generations or something removed."

"Not to mention he’s your partner." Beka gave him a sidelong look. "In the personal sense."

"Yeah, whatever." He brooded for a moment himself. "You know, I don’t even _believe_ in happily forever after."

"Who said you had to?" Beka bumped her shoulder against his. "You’ve got something good for both of you. You don’t have to put a category around it."

"Good point." Somehow, that made him feel better. "Dylan’s sneaky that way."

"Sneaky what way?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Sort of--" He gestured, unable to think of the right words. "Creeping up on me." It sounded ridiculous and he started to laugh. "I mean, not that I mind. He doesn’t hit my alarm buttons that way."

Beka snickered. "He has a devious mind."

Tipping his head back, he smiled idiotically at the ceiling. "He does. I like that about him."

She raised her can. "Me, too. To deviousness."

He clinked his against hers. "To deviousness." Another comfortable silence. He shifted again. "You think I’m doing all right? At being a dad, I mean?"

Beka gave him a long, incredulous look. "Are you nuts? Hell, yes, I think you’re doing all right. I think you’re doing great." She snickered again. "Although, it’s weird seeing you do that responsible parent thing."

"Growing up sucks." He snickered, too.

"Nah, it’s not the growing up part that sucks, it’s the growing old." She bumped shoulders again. "But hey, what else have we got to do with our lives?"

"Rebuild the Commonwealth, baby." He laughed too hard, got cola up his nose.

"That’s disgusting," Beka laughed and nearly fell down. 

"Argh. It feels worse." Harper rubbed his abused sinuses. "Anyway, we’ll be at El D tomorrow, and ta da, I can work on distracting Dylan."

Beka choked again, fell over on her side. "What a hardship!" she hooted.

"I _knew_ you were jealous." He smirked at her.

"Please. All that brooding--I’d shoot him." 

"Shows what you know." He let his smirk get bigger.

"Does this mean I get to hear the details?" Beka sat up, arched both eyebrows.

"Not. A. Chance." Oh, yeah, this was fun.

"Brat."

"Jealous witch."

She stuck her tongue out at him and they both cracked up again.

"What are the two of you doing?" asked Tyr from the doorway. He was frowning.

"Drinking Sparky," Harper told him peaceably. He was beginning to think that Beka was right, that Lea had sucked Tyr in despite the fact that she was human. He could forgive a fair amount for that, but he still wasn’t going to turn his back on Tyr. So to speak.

"You know, Tyr," Beka said and pushed herself up to her feet. "If you weren’t Nietzschean, I’d take you back to my quarters and clear your sinuses."

Cola went up Harper’s nose again. Tyr’s expression was... partly offended, partly perplexed. "My sinuses?"

Beka hooted again and sauntered past, still laughing madly.

Tyr looked at Harper as if he expected an explanation. 

"Caffeine intoxication," Harper offered. "She’s not used to it."

Clearly no wiser, Tyr nodded, looked after Beka speculatively.

Oh, he so did not want to even imagine that. Popping up to his feet, he babbled something incoherent and escaped, eyes still watering from the cola in _his_ sinuses.

Dylan was in Lea’s room with her, playing what sounded like a raucous round of the musical game. Harper sauntered in and grinned.

Barefoot and in casual civvies, Dylan was sitting on the floor with Lea between his legs and the game between Lea’s. "Okay, you have to be fast," he told her and glanced up briefly. "Ready?"

"Ready." Lea giggled. 

Dylan hit the button and the next round began. Harper couldn’t help laughing, watching them both. Lea finally collapsed in giggles against Dylan and Dylan shut the game down, laughing pretty hard himself. 

Harper went over and sank down on the floor next to Dylan, tugged the front of Dylan’s shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. "I like hearing you laugh."

Dylan’s eyes widened a little. "I didn’t realize I’d stopped."

"You just haven’t been laughing enough lately," Harper told him and kissed him again.

"Abba," Lea complained. "I want hugs, too."

"Wait your turn, munchkin," he mock-growled and let go of Dylan, let Lea climb up for her hug. "You been good for Dylan today?"

"Yes." Slightly sheepish look. "Mostly."

"Mostly?" He raised an eyebrow.

Dylan grinned. "She was good. Just a little temperament when she didn’t want a nap." 

"I sorry." Penitent look. 

"Did you tell Dylan you were sorry?" 

"I did." More penitent.

Dylan smiled faintly. "She did."

"Good." Harper rubbed noses with Lea. "You better be good for Trance."

"I will be. Promise." Solemn little face.

He glanced at Dylan, saw the shadows getting closer again. Nudged him. "Hey, did you guys eat yet?"

"Yeah, Lea was complaining. There’s more in the ‘wave."

He was going to knock Dylan down and wipe those shadows away if it killed him. "So, Lea mia, it’s time for bath then."

"Done," Dylan said and arched an eyebrow at him. "That’s one of the new sleepers Beka got her."

"No kidding?" Harper held Lea out, making her giggle again. "I thought it was one of those jumpsuits."

"So did I. Lea and Beka set me straight after I tried to put it on her this morning." Dylan chuckled.

"Good thing Beka’s here to make sure we have our fashion sense straight."

"You’re silly, Abba," Lea said. "How come you so late?"

"I was working and then Beka came by and distracted me with conversation."

She put a small hand on each side of his face. "You don’t work so late."

"Bossy munchkin." He kissed the tip of her nose. "I have to get all my work done so I can have shore leave. Ask the boss."

Lea giggled. "You have to read me _two_ stories now."

"Oh, do I?" Harper narrowed his eyes. "Says who?"

She giggled again. "Says Dylan! He’s the boss!"

"Here, here, what a perceptive minx you are." Dylan leaned over. "Come here and give me a good night hug, I’m going to let Abba read your stories in peace."

"Hey, don’t abandon me," Harper said plaintively. "She’s a bossy munchkin tonight."

Lea went to Dylan, hugged his neck hard and gave him a smack of a kiss. "Night night."

"Night, night," Dylan told her affectionately and got up. "Take your beating like a man," he advised Harper, one corner of his mouth lifting.

"Hah," Harper said and got up with Lea under his arm. "Easy for you to say."

Dylan was still laughing when he left.

Dylan was sitting on the bed when Harper finally got Lea tucked in. Not sleeping, but watching--or maybe pretending to watch--a vid, legs stretched out, head tipped slightly back.

Harper considered whether or not he was really hungry, decided it could wait and went to sit at the foot of the bed. "Hi."

Dylan’s gaze moved to him, one corner of Dylan’s mouth curved. "Hi yourself."

Almost normal, almost cheerful, but he knew better. He knew Dylan that well now, turned to sit cross-legged with Dylan’s feet in his lap and rubbed his thumbs over Dylan’s arches firmly.

"God." Dylan’s eyes were heavy-lidded. "I’ll give you about an hour to stop that."

"You like?" He felt a mixture of annoyance and delight. "How come you never mentioned it?"

"I never thought to mention it." Dylan laughed a little. "Not everyone is as ticklish as you are."

"Yeah?" Harper smirked. "You have your ticklish spots."

"Not on my feet." Dylan’s smile was... bittersweet or something, and he really didn’t like that.

So he focused on what he was doing. "This good?"

"I think ‘good’ is an understatement." Dylan tipped his head back lazily, smiled again. 

He’d have found that more reassuring if he couldn’t see that shadow, that sadness. "You wanna talk to me now?"

Dylan sighed, closed his eyes. "I’m sorry. I know--I know I’m not exactly the best company lately."

"Like I care about that." His throat ached suddenly. "You know, Captain Terrific, I think it’s my turn to hang tough for you."

Dylan’s arm went over his eyes. "I’m sorry." Muffled voice.

He didn’t know what to say to that. Kept on rubbing Dylan’s feet. Finally said. "If you apologize to me again, I’m going to do something radical."

Choked laughter and Dylan lifted his arm. "Okay, okay, no more apologies." He looked away. "Harper, I hope to god you know this isn’t about you. None of it."

Harper nodded. "I know. It’s about Lea."

Dylan’s eyes were too bright. "No. It’s about what happened to Lea. It’s about knowing that I may have fathered a family of murderers. It’s about not knowing who on that ship knew that someone was murdering a helpless baby. It’s about not knowing if that’s the way they do things, and if it’s related to the complete breakdown after the Fall." Bleak, bleak voice. "It’s about the kind of people who would put a baby out there to die."

That undid him. Harper looked away, blinked hard. "Dylan, you know how crazy about the Tregozzis I am. But they can’t all have been that way. Lea’s one great kid, and as much as I’d like to blame that on us--I mean, face it, we’re great--I don’t think I can. Seven months does not a Lea make."

Dylan made another choked sound. "You don’t think?"

"Hey, I wish." Harper looked down, slid his hands to Dylan’s ankles, just because there was something weirdly vulnerable about them. "Somebody took good care of her. Maybe that medical officer, her grandmother. Somebody packed up Pali for her because they knew she’d need him."

Dylan swiped at his eyes. "Her. But yeah, I know what you’re telling me."

"Then listen to me, dammit. Every family has a bad seed. Looks like yours is Fatima." He let go of Dylan’s ankles, climbed up to sit in Dylan’s lap, hands braced against the headboard. Kissed him, long and sweet and maybe just a little hungry. Scared, too, he was scared of losing Dylan to this darkness. God, please let Dylan hear him, let him give something back to Dylan. "Besides," he said, drawing back a little, "besides, Dylan, even if the whole damn family is worse than the Beans, it ain’t your fault. Not everything is your goddamned fault because you trusted Rhade."

Bitter smile. "You’re sure about that?"

"Unless somebody died back then and left you God, yeah, I’m sure."

Dylan laughed suddenly. "Am I being an arrogant asshole?"

"A megalomaniac, maybe. Nobody’s responsible for everything." He rubbed his nose against Dylan’s. "Come on, tough guy, it’s my turn."

Dylan blinked hard. Harper kissed each eyelid, tasted salt. Jeez, he was doomed whichever way he looked, but he’d known that for a while. It wasn’t even scary any more, it was just... interesting. "Do you know how--" Dylan began.

He put his fingers over Dylan’s mouth. "Don’t say it." Superstitious again.

Dylan smiled against his fingers. Slid a hand under his shirt and wrote something in invisible straggling letters.

"Yeah, me, too." He removed his fingers and kissed Dylan again. "Trust the Harper, the Harper knows best."

Dylan’s mouth curved. "Good point."

"And the Harper prescribes a nice cold ale, a hot bath, and if you’re very good, I’ll even rub your back."

"I’ll be good," Dylan promised, laughing.

"That," Harper said, and smirked, "remains to be seen." It wasn’t that easy, he knew it wasn’t that easy, knew it from his own life. But damned if he couldn’t give Dylan some cushion for that pain. Damned if he wouldn’t.

  


* * *

Arriving at El Dorado Drift was a relief, if only because Harper was looking forward to it so much. So was Dylan, he had to admit; as dear as Lea was, _he_ was looking forward to some non-parental time with Harper. 

With Lea safely in Trance’s care, Dylan rather thought they’d manage to have the shore leave Lea’s arrival had interrupted more than seven months earlier. This time he stayed out of the hotel bar in an attempt to ensure it. Not that Harper would have let him so much as look in the door, Harper was a man with a mission that was just as compelling as restoring the Commonwealth.

"I think of it as just as important," Harper told him snappily and nudged him as they walked across the Plaza toward their hotel. "Restoring the Hunt."

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. "Let me guess, you’re going to lock me in the room."

"Nah, we have to be able to go out while we’re recovering from all the decadent things I’ve got planned for you." Harper smirked. 

"Sounds promising," Dylan remarked, grinned when Harper looked at him. "Hey, I’m depressed, not stupid."

"I’m working on the first thing, give me time." Sweet smile.

When had he gotten so soft that Harper’s smile turned his bones to water? Did he care? Was it even important? Well, only in a good way, he decided. Maybe it meant that he was still human, still alive, and hell, that had to be a good thing.

He put his hand on the back of Harper’s neck. "This was a good idea," he confessed.

The smile that rewarded him was intense enough that he pushed Harper up against an alcove and kissed him in public. Just as intensely.

"Wow," Harper said finally, sounding dazed. "I’m taking you out in civvies more often."

"That could be another good idea." Dylan smirked. "Where were we going?"

"Who cares." Harper pulled him in for another kiss, finally let him go about the time he began to have trouble remembering his own name.

"Good point. But I don’t know what the local ordinances are concerning public--"

"I’m on it, I’m on it." Harper tugged him back onto the walkway, grinned wickedly.

They were going to be lucky to make it to the hotel.

  


* * *

Much later, Dylan stretched luxuriously and shifted to put his head on Harper’s bare thigh. Harper, naturally, was eating; he broke off a piece of whatever it was and put that piece in Dylan’s mouth.

Tart and crunchy, and Dylan smirked up Harper. "Keeping my mouth busy?"

"Someone’s gotta." Harper grinned back. "Until I recover. Pretty lively for an old man of three hundred something."

"Shore leave," Dylan told him and reached up to tweak Harper’s left nipple. "My goal is to keep you dazed with sexual satisfaction."

"So far, you’re doing pretty well. Question is, how long can you keep it up? No pun intended." Harper’s eyes glinted. 

"Feed me some more and keep my strength up and I’ll show you."

Harper’s gaze went a little dreamy. "Oh, yeah." He surveyed Dylan. "Man, miles and miles and it’s all mine."

"Now who’s possessive?" Teasing a little.

Harper fed him another piece of whatever the hell it was. "You know, if you were crazy possessive, that would be bad. But I gotta admit, I don’t mind it exactly."

Crazy possessive, Dylan thought, but let it go, refusing to let Bannon enter his mind. "I keep meaning to ask you, who were the Beans you mentioned the other night? Another trader family?"

Harper chortled. "And people say _I’m_ illiterate." Dylan growled, got another bite. "Ancient Earth history, incestuous family of bandits and cannibals, used to waylay travelers and roast ‘em over an open fire. Hey, don’t look at me like that, it’s a true story. Saw an old horror holo about ‘em, got curious and looked it up to see if it was true."

"Gah." Dylan grimaced. "What happened to them?"

"Government tracked ‘em down, vermin hunt, and exterminated ‘em." Harper offered him another bite. "You like this?"

"Yeah, but what is it?"

Harper grinned. "Keri bread. Comes from this root vegetable, they let it ferment and then mix it up into bread. Good for energy."

"In that case, more." Dylan nipped the hand that fed him. "You know, I have to admit, I can almost understand cannibalism."

Harper’s eyebrows rose. "You’re scaring me."

Dylan grinned, shifted to plant an elbow on the bed between Harper’s legs and offered Harper his most innocent look. "No, really. I consider it once in a while."

Harper’s eyes narrowed. "Huh?"

Dylan leaned up and put his mouth over the nipple he’d tweaked. 

Harper yelped, cracked up. "Bastard," he purred, "I’m not sure how soon that’s gonna work after what you just did to me, but hey, if you don’t mind, I don’t mind."

Dylan licked, drew back to grin. "I don’t mind taking my time."

Harper put a hand in his hair, laughter fading a little. "I like seeing you happy." Very faintly. "I hate it that every time I turn around, something to do with me--"

He saw where this was going, put his fingers on Harper’s lips. "Don’t." Strongly. "That’s not true, Harper. Not even close to true." He shifted, sat upright. "God, Harper, don’t you have any idea?" Harper started to say something, but Dylan kissed him. "If you think that, I’ve really screwed things up."

"I just worry sometimes." Harper hooked an arm around him, leaned in. "I mean, all that shit last year, and Lea--"

"You moron," Dylan said, and hugged him hard. "Even Beka says I’m mellowing, and you _know_ she usually thinks I’ve got a steel rod up my spine."

"Actually, she thinks it’s somewhere else," Harper said and snickered. "Nice sentimental touch, Dylan, calling me a moron."

"If the boot fits--" And Dylan was tumbled back on the bed, kissed thoroughly into submission and hell if he was going to complain about that. He put both arms around Harper, rubbed his palms over Harper’s back. "Idiot." Fondly.

"Well, you just fucked me senseless," Harper said and laughed into Dylan’s neck.

"Is that it? Hmmmmm, that could cause problems with my desire to leave you dazed with sexual satisfaction. I can’t compromise my ship by affecting my engineer’s performance."

"Yeah, right." Harper sucked at the side of Dylan’s throat. "Like you can resist me."

"There is that," Dylan agreed with a resigned sigh. "It’s very difficult. Cold showers and.. .ow!"

Harper snickered again. "We’ll see who can resist who."

"Whom," Dylan said and yelped again when his ribs were poked ungently. "Okay, okay, okay."

The poking stopped and turned to petting. Not even specifically sexual petting, just... Harper. Harper being affectionate, Harper being playful, Harper trying to take care of him. It warmed the cold places left by imagining Bannon and what had happened to Lea, and he was damned well going to fight this malaise with everything he had.

And in the meantime, he tipped them both over and focused on nothing more than kissing Harper.

"I can’t decide if I’m hungry or sleepy," he finally said.

Harper patted his chest. "You feel sleepy," he said solemnly. "And when you wake up, you’ll be hungry and I’ll feed you and take advantage of you, and then you’ll be sleepy again."

Dylan laughed softly. "Which makes me wonder which of us is going to be most dazed when we go back."

"You’re _so_ competitive," Harper murmured. "But ya know, I like that about you."

"You’re so sentimental." Dylan kissed him again, helped Harper gather the bedclothes around them both. Not precisely the way they were intended to be gathered, but hell if he cared. 

He was where he wanted to be. And damned grateful for it.


	2. Chapter 2

Harper could almost see the pain lifting from Dylan over the next forty-eight hours. He knew part of it was simply Dylan’s effort to reassure him, but some of it was just... just Dylan letting go of some of it.

He knew that process pretty damn well himself. 

"Hey," he said, as they were getting ready to check out of the hotel. "Why don’t we have Trance meet us with Lea. That little amusement park over in the boutique district might be fun."

Dylan, fully dressed, but lounging on the very disorderly bed, arched an eyebrow. "An amusement park?"

"Yeah. She’s too little for some of that stuff, but I bet she’d get a kick out of the carousel."

"A carousel," Dylan said thoughtfully. "I didn’t know people still built those. Why not?" He rolled over, flipped up the comm screen next to the bed. 

Harper grinned, went back into the bathroom to finish spiking up his hair. He just hoped like hell the carousel didn’t spook Lea, but if it did, no problem. There was plenty to do on that side of the Drift, and besides, he had a feeling they were both in a mood to do some indulging.

Dylan appeared behind him in the mirror. "Trance is going to meet us there. She says to tell you positively, absolutely no casinos, so don’t even ask." He put his hands on Harper’s shoulders, smiled at Harper’s reflection. "Ready?"

"Yeah." Harper turned, tipped his face up and got kissed with some serious enthusiasm. Oh, yeah, the two days had definitely been good for both of them.

Heh.

Trance was waiting for them near the park, holding a wide-eyed Lea who shrieked in delight when she saw them. Laughing, Trance put her down on her feet and Lea flung herself at Harper. 

"I missed you!" she complained. "You gone too long!" Then, swiveling, she reached for Dylan. "You, too, Dylan."

Dylan laughed. "But you’re used to me being gone sometimes, Lea."

"But you taked Abba this time." A Lea scowl, but she forgot she was annoyed when Dylan hugged her. "I missed you, too, Dylan."

"We missed you, minx," Dylan told her. "Were you good?"

"She was," Trance agreed happily. "I’m going to do some shopping now if you two don’t mind."

"Trance, you’re becoming a shopaholic," Harper advised.

"I’m meeting Beka," she told him and dimpled. "You have fun, all three of you!"

"We’ll do our best." Harper promised.

Lea didn’t freak out at the carousel. In fact, after the fifth time, Harper had to practically pry her away to find one of the games.

He helped her throw discs at the digital target and won one of the cheesiest prizes he’d ever seen at one of these things, an iridescent creature of some kind that bore a strong resemblance to one of Trance’s jumpsuits. Well, at least in hue. 

Lea regarded it dubiously, but condescended to carry it. "I’m hungry, Abba."

Dylan grinned. "All that carousel riding," he told Harper and pointed. "There’s a food court over that way. Any preferences."

"Gyros if they’ve still got ‘em here."

Dylan nodded. "I’ll see what I can do." Leaned in and kissed him. In public. Again.

Guh.

He stood for a minute with Lea’s small hand in his, watching Dylan thread his way through the crowd. "Nice," he said, not even aware he’d said it out loud.

Lea tugged at his hand. "Abba, I do that?"

He blinked, looked to see and winced. "Are you sure about that, Lea mia? That thing goes pretty fast."

The ride powered up then and Lea watched thoughtfully as the passengers screamed and whirled. "No." Decisively.

"Smart kid," he told her. "There, see the monorail? That takes us all around the park waaaay up high, but it doesn’t tip you upside down."

"Okay." Lea beamed at him. "Where Dylan is?"

"He went to get some food for us. He’ll be back in a minute. You want to ride the monorail?"

"Yes." Just as decisively.

The line was short, they got a car to themselves, and Harper held her on his lap while she peered out the open window. As the monorail ascended the track, she got a little nervous and clutched her fingers in his shirt, but once it leveled out again, she grew bolder.

"Look, look, I see Dylan," she crowed, pointing.

The kid was right, Dylan was standing at a booth, and looked up when Harper shouted his name. He could see Dylan’s grin, even from this height, saw Dylan lift a hand to wave at them.

Lea crowed in delight. "He see’d us!"

"He sure did." A woman walked up to Dylan, put her hand on his arm. Harper frowned, craned his head to watch Dylan as the monorail slid them further along, but lost sight of him as it reached a curve.

He knew that posture. That was Dylan’s "I’m not happy to meet you and don’t trust you worth a damn, but I can be polite" posture. It made him uneasy to see it here and now, and he hadn’t recognized the woman.

He waited a little impatiently for the ride to finish, no easy task as it circled the entire commercial section. Lea enjoyed all of it, at least until the monorail descended again, at which time she gave up being brave and just grabbed him around the neck.

Dylan wasn’t at the booth any more, Dylan was sitting at one of the tables at the edge of the food court with the woman who had approached him. Grim expression.

And even if he didn’t recognize the woman, he could see the patch on her jacket. The Falco. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He scooped Lea up, reckoning that Dylan would forgive his disappearance. When the _hell_ had the Falco gotten into port and why the hell hadn’t Trance said anything. Which wasn’t fair, it might not have docked when Trance left Andromeda, but he was getting the hell back to the ship the sneaky way and leaving Lea safely on board until they undocked from El D.

He headed back around the park, took an accessway he knew about to cut past the food court. "Abba," Lea complained, "Dylan over there."

"I know, Lea, but we’re going back to the ship. I forgot something there." Yeah, he’d forgotten something, he’d forgotten that safety was a fucking illusion. Dylan wouldn’t give Lea back, he knew that, Dylan would cut his own throat before even considering it. But he’d feel a damn sight better with Lea safely aboard and well out of reach of any Falco crewmember.

"We come back for Dylan?" A little fretfully.

"Of course," he promised, feeling faintly guilty.

But not guilty enough to change course.

  


* * *

Sabra Tregozzi. The medical officer of the Falco d’Argento, Lea’s grandmother, and possibly the person who had taken care to send Lea’s things over. At the moment, that didn’t matter. Looking at the hand on his arm, Dylan felt rage flare to life.

"You." Low and deadly. 

She nodded expressionlessly. "I understand you are angry. But tell me, did the genetic treatment work?"

He closed the fingers of his other hand around her wrist, almost cruelly tight, felt distant satisfaction when she winced. "I’ll tell you. But there’s a toll. You tell me why."

Tregozzi looked at him directly. "I did what I thought was best for the child."

He leaned closer. "I’m not talking about why you abandoned her. I’m talking about why you people tried to kill her at Chi Station."

She went chalk-pale. "How--" Shaky breath. "She’s too small, how could you know?"

"She communicates very well." He smiled grimly, too aware that for the third time in his life, he was experiencing the desire to do murder. She stared at him and he leaned closer still. "Unless you want to find that I’ve advertised the fact that the Falco was at Chi, I suggest you start talking. I want answers."

Tregozzi glanced around. "All right, but not right here." She gestured toward a table at the far edge of the court with her free hand. "Over there."

Dylan was in agreement with that; the last thing he wanted was to have Harper and Lea walk in on this. The last thing he wanted Harper and Lea to see was Sabra Tregozzi. He walked her over to the table with a pleasant smile, still holding her wrist tightly. Let go of it when she sat down, took the seat opposite. "I want to know what happened at Chi Station."

Tregozzi smiled thinly. "Do you? Put simply, my daughter Fatima tried to rid herself of a child that was costing her far more than she was willing to pay, and my son Dylan saved that child’s life."

"Your grandchild." Flatly. "A little more detail, if you please."

She looked at her hands. "You need to understand. Amalea’s condition was... expensive to deal with. From the time a Tregozzi is old enough, they earn ship credits, their share of the ship’s income. Amalea’s care cost Fatima most of hers."

"So she tried to eliminate the expense." Bitterly. "And you people let her. Why not just smother her in her crib?"

She looked directly at him again. "No. When I realized that Amalea was gone--we knew there was something wrong at Chi, we didn’t dock. We sent pods over, the crew wore hardsuits. There were things we needed, we couldn’t just pass by." Her gaze went distant, suddenly. "Fatima--I don’t know why she did it that way. Well, perhaps because Amalea was monitored closely, I don’t know. It made no sense to anyone." Suddenly, she looked very tired. "My son realized almost immediately, took a pod to the station. Amalea had been bitten, but was still alive. She hadn’t--there hadn’t been time for the thing that had cocooned her to lay its egg in her. It was a simple matter of maintaining life support for her until the venom could be purged from her system."

"And why is Fatima still alive? Still on board the Falco."

That got a blank look. "She’s an adult crewmember and one of our best pilots. My mother would no more put her off then she would cut off a limb, she’s too valuable."

"And Lea wasn’t." 

Direct gaze again. "No. She was a sick child, a drain on the resources of the ship." 

He wanted to strangle her. "I see."

"You don’t understand," she said tiredly. "These factors have to be considered in space. This isn’t the same universe into which you were born, Captain Hunt."

"The Miriam Tregozzi I knew had more integrity than any of you," he grated. "And believe me, she was a willful, self-oriented bitch who would have sold her own family out to achieve her political goals. If we hadn’t been on the same side, she’d have sold me out. As far as I’m concerned, the only good thing to come out of any of this _is_ Lea, the valueless child your daughter tried to kill."

Tregozzi looked away. "Did the treatment work?"

"Yes. It did. And to keep another child from being abandoned in the event your bitch of a daughter breeds again, I’ll even have the technique and formula messaged over to the Falco." Dylan rose, hands fisted. "One last thing. Why didn’t any of you report what had happened to Chi Station?"

She was still not looking at him. "It wasn’t my decision to make."

He took in a breath, willing the rage away. "Let me give you a strongly worded suggestion. I don’t ever want to see the Falco in any port again. Because if I catch you in anything, and I do mean anything, the only concession you’ll get from me is to get the children off that ship before I blow it to hell where it belongs."

Still as stone, she kept looking away. Didn’t answer.

He hadn’t expected her to. Wouldn’t have believed whatever she told him. 

Instead, he went in search of Harper and Lea.

  


* * *

Someone, Harper thought, was following them. Or else his paranoia had gone wild, a distinct possibility, and he was grimly glad that despite shore leave, he was armed. Lea seemed to sense something was wrong; she had put her finger in her mouth and was silent, holding tightly to him as he took the less traveled ways toward the docks.

It might have been a mistake to leave the busier walkways, he finally thought and zigged around a corner, grateful for Lea’s continued silence. 

A hand closed over his shoulder and yanked him into a recessed doorway. Before he had his gun in hand, a voice hissed in his ear. "You’re being followed."

His muscles felt rubbery for a minute. Tyr. He nodded, turned his head slightly. Tyr shifted, put himself in front of Harper. "The Falco’s here." Almost soundlessly, the barest whisper.

Tyr nodded, peered out. Held up a hand, indicating that they were going to stay put.

"I know I saw him." A woman’s voice. "He had her with him."

A male voice answered indistinctly.

"I know what my mother said." Closer now and recognizable. Fatima.

Tyr pressed back against him, turned his head and put a finger on Lea’s lips warningly.

Lea nodded solemnly, eyes wide with alarm. Harper tightened his hold on her. They were as far back as they could go without breaking and entering, and that idea was looking better and better, despite the vicious reputation of El D’s bulls.

Tyr turned suddenly and gestured incomprehensibly. His synapses obviously weren’t working, but then suddenly, they were. Tyr was going to deflect the bitch and her companion, and that translation seemed to be borne out when Tyr stepped out and walked far more noisily than Tyr ever walked anywhere.

Lea was trembling. He put his cheek against her hair, felt the fine strands of it; the voices didn’t get any more distant right away, but he listened distantly as Tyr was... downright flirtatious.

God.

Then, thankfully, the voices receded, footsteps led away, and Harper risked taking a look. Lea was still trembling; he kept one hand on his gun and headed out with all the speed he could manage with a kid on his hip.

Silently thanking Tyr for a lot of things he hadn’t ever expected to be grateful for.

  


* * *

Instead of panicking when he couldn’t find Harper and Lea, Dylan simply contacted Rommie.

"They’ve just arrived on board, Dylan." Calm voice. "When the Falco docked, I tried to contact you at the hotel, but you’d already left. Tyr went out to look for you to warn you that the Falco was in port."

Dylan took a deep, relieved breath. "He hasn’t found me yet."

"No, he did find Harper. He diverted the attention of Fatima Tregozzi and her companion, another crewmember so that Harper could return to the ship unmolested."

"I’m on my way." He closed the channel and started back toward the docks. Along the way, Tyr appeared out of nowhere and fell into step beside him.

He looked sidelong at Tyr, but didn’t slow. "Thank you," he finally said.

Tyr shrugged. "The woman’s insane." Flatly.

"Why were they following Harper? I’d think she’d be glad of her freedom."

Tyr snorted. "It appears that Medical Officer Tregozzi told her captain that the child had died on Andromeda."

Jarred, Dylan stopped dead. "What?"

"I assured her that this was sadly the case." Faint smile, ironic and amused. "Once I understood precisely what she was doing. Evidently, she caught a glimpse of Harper with the child, not quite enough to identify him, but enough to make her wonder." Tyr started walking again. "So she tried to follow him."

Dylan caught up, shook his head. "To what purpose?"

"Why, to kill him of course. And the child. Evidently, she thought he’d be anxious to be rid of Lea and would try and return her to the Falco."

"She told you this?"

Another ironic smile. "I bought her a drink. I drugged it."

Dylan eyed him. "Drugged it with what?"

"An hypnotic mixed with just a little sedative. She would have told me anything. As it was, she told me quite a lot. You know, Dylan, whatever my opinion of non-reproductive, ah, relationships, you chose more wisely this time." Tyr’s tone had shifted subtly, no more irony. Instead, Dylan heard something that was almost sympathy.

"Believe me, I didn’t exactly choose to reproduce with the first Miriam Tregozzi," Dylan said grimly.

Tyr nodded, but didn’t say anything more until they’d neared the docks. "You know, of course, that they looted Chi Station and the dead there."

"I’d guessed." Dylan smiled grimly. "Why else would they keep silent? Is she really crazy enough to try and kill Harper?"

"Yes." Tyr’s gaze was steady. "She is. I believe that she’s temporarily convinced that Lea is dead. The effect of the hypnotic may last, there’s no way to tell. But she is unstable enough, in my admittedly nonprofessional opinion, that she may well change her mind. I’d suggest the little professor stay on board until we undock."

"We’re undocking as soon as Trance and Beka are back aboard." Dylan exchanged a long look with Tyr. "And I’ve warned Medical Officer Tregozzi that I don’t want to see the Falco in any port again."

Tyr nodded.

They walked in silence the rest of the way.

Harper and Lea were in hydroponics, of all places, sitting on one of the pathways near one of Trance’s more luxuriant flower beds.

Harper looked up at him, and Dylan could see... weariness, distress, rage, and other, less identifiable emotions. "Hi. Sorry we took off." Lea’s small head stayed bowed.

"I’m not. I always knew you were brilliant." Dylan crouched beside them. "Hey, Lea mia. I’m glad you came back to Andromeda early." Lea looked up finally, still sucking her finger, and he saw tears. "What’s the matter, baby?"

"She was worried about you." Harper’s voice was subdued. "Ah, she had a scare."

"I heard." He put one hand on the nape of Harper’s neck, kissed Harper’s mouth lightly. "I met Tyr on my way back, he filled me in."

Lea took her finger out of her mouth. "Two okay?" Scared little voice.

"Tyr is very much okay, baby." The Tregozzis had somehow taken on the shape of monsters in Lea’s mind, he reckoned. "And so am I."

"She was worried about Tyr, too." A little dryly, but Dylan could see relief, could hear it. "She didn’t believe me that Tyr can handle himself just fine. Or that you could. She was sure that you know who was going to get you."

"Not even close." Another kiss and Dylan sat, pulled Lea into his lap. "Lea, you don’t ever have to worry about her again. You’re safe here. We won’t ever let her get close to you again."

"Abba said," she agreed and stood up on his legs, hugged his neck hard. "Abba said, too."

"Abba knows." He smiled at Harper, put his arms around Lea. "You know you can take that to the bank."

Harper flushed, smiled back, almost incandescent. "Yeah?"

"Damn straight." He reached out, brushed his knuckles against Harper’s cheek. "Shall we see if Beka and Trance are back? We’re leaving the minute they’re on board."

"Good idea." Harper bounced up, held out a hand. "And we never did get lunch."

"God, that’s right. I’m buying, let’s indulge." The glint of delight in Harper’s eyes dissolved the last remnants of his rage. "After all, we didn’t get your gyros." He handed Lea up to Harper, got back to his feet. "I think I’m getting old."

"Nah, you’re downright lively, remember?" Harper grinned.

He grinned back.

"I’m hungry," Lea said plaintively.

"Then we’d better take care of that," Dylan said.

  


* * *

Lea re-enacted her psychodrama after she’d had lunch. Playing on the floor of Dylan’s quarters, she let her fingers attack poor Pali again.

Dylan watched grimly, understanding better. Harper would not watch, could not bring himself to watch, but he was calmer not watching than he had been the last few times.

After a moment, Dylan stretched out on the floor with Lea. "Who’s that?" he asked softly, indicating the rescuer. 

Lea looked at him sidelong. "Pip."

He arched an eyebrow. "Did Pip get hurt?"

"Uh huh." She picked up another toy, one of a set of figures that Beka had gotten for her, god, nearly eight months back. Pip seemed to stagger with Pali, but little fingers no longer attacked. "But not too bad." Judicious tone. Sidelong look. "The baby got hurt."

Dylan nodded. "The bad things."

"They bited." She shuddered, but it was more drama than real fear. "It hurted."

"I’ll bet." 

Harper, seated on the bed and pretending to read a tech manual, glanced their way, frowned.

She continued, talking softly to herself in Chari. Suddenly, Pali was unhurt again, and two other figures joined her. "There, see, now she’s okay. She has a new place."

"And people who love her very much," Dylan agreed. "Who’s that over there?"

She shook her head. "A bad person." Evasively. "She didn’t like the baby."

Dylan deemed it wiser to move on, judging from Harper’s expression and Lea’s evasiveness. "Who’s that over there."

"Ema." Lea pushed that figure away. 

"Did Ema like the baby?" Very softly.

"I dunno." Lea hugged Pali suddenly. "I take care of Pali."

"You sure do."

She beamed at him. "And you and Abba take care of me!"

"We try," he said, laughing softly. "Sometimes, you’re a handful, minx."

She leaned back against him, gave him one of her patented smacking kisses on the corner of his mouth. "But I love you and Abba lots."

"Yes, you do." He smiled at her, whispered. "Go get Abba, he’s working too hard."

She grinned at him with delight, abandoned Pali to his tender mercies and scampered over to pounce on Harper, who abandoned the tech manual with relief.

Picking up Pali, Dylan joined them, stretched out again to watch Lea jolly Harper out of being tense. A pounce, noses rubbed together, and then small fingers spiked Harper’s hair more.

He reached out to help, got a snort from Harper. They ended up in a pile on the bed and he nuzzled the back of Harper’s neck while Harper played torture the baby. Lea was ticklish and even though Harper didn’t actually tickle her much at all, just the threat made Lea shriek with laughter.

"I think two days of shore leave undid knots I didn’t know I had," he murmured, when the shrieking had subsided to giggles and tentative forays by Lea in search of vengeance. "I’m feeling almost criminally lazy now."

"That’s just because I wore you out." Harper let his head fall back on Dylan’s shoulder, smirked. "You’re in that daze you talked about."

"Maybe." 

Lea pounced again, stood up. "No kissing." 

Dylan arched an eyebrow. "No?"

She giggled. "No."

"Why not?"

"Cuz I’m playin’!" She shrieked again when Harper tugged her legs out from under her, laughed like crazy when she landed on her back. "Again, Abba! Again!"

"You’ve created a monster."

"Two monsters," Harper said smugly. "A lazy captain, and a shrieking munchkin."

Dylan smiled, unseen, winked at Lea. "Let’s get him, Lea."

Giggling maniacally, she bounced back up and Harper stood absolutely no chance whatsoever.

Tyr was on command deck, they were on their way back out into the cleaner reaches of space, and life, despite being odd, was really very good. He felt an unusual surge of optimism about the universe, which was even odder, considering that the Tregozzis _were_ in fact, very like the Beans.

But Harper had been right; it didn’t matter.

Lea was theirs.

  


* * *

Harper cheered and whistled as Beka put the newest member of the Commonwealth--or rather the medallion representing Erirtrea--into the next slot. 

Leaning against the bar, Dylan smiled faintly. At this rate, he might still be alive by the time the Commonwealth was rebuilt, but if he considered that he really didn’t have another mission--aside from Harper and Lea--that was all right. Some people lived their entire lives without ever finding their passion; this was his, and for perhaps the first time in his life, he was aware of a vague background contentment.

"Why Abba is making noise?" Lea, seated cross-legged on the bar, wanted to know.

"We’re celebrating, minx. We’re up one more Commonwealth world."

Lea nodded. "Okay. Like in my lessons, that Commonwealth?"

Dylan smiled again. "Yes, exactly." It was hard to believe Lea had already been with them a Standard year. It was hard to believe that this was the same child. Slim, but sturdy, with her father’s questing mind and advantages that Harper had never had. For one thing, she had Harper, for another, she had the entire crew as her family, and an evident sense of security that Harper couldn’t have known. And then, of course, there were the educational advantages to be had on Andromeda. 

Harper turned around to face him. "Are you brooding?"

"I am not." He nudged Lea. "I’m not brooding, am I?"

"Brooding is sad?" Lea looked at Harper for confirmation. "Nope. Dylan’s not sad."

"Oh, well, good." Harper grinned at him. "So you’re good?"

"I’m good," Dylan agreed. 

"I’m very good," Lea said. "Right?"

"Right you are," Dylan told her, smiling. "Mostly." They’d had an interesting experience when Lea had temporarily forgotten her orders and gone walkabout on Level B. Rommie had promptly reported this transgression, and a chagrined Lea had spent the rest of the day in her room.

"Mostly," she agreed sadly. "Sometimes I forget."

Harper narrowed his eyes at her, opened his mouth, but Rommie interrupted whatever it was he’d planned to say. 

"Dylan, I’m reading life signs in what appears to be an escape pod of some sort. Very weak, but definitely human."

"On my way," Dylan said regretfully. "Command deck, people--"

"Me, too!" Lea was avid to get to command deck, and so far, he’d kept it off limits. 

"Think this once?" Harper eyed her. "She did say she was sorry."

"I won’t ever come unless I’m s’posed to." Lea smiled winningly.

An escape pod, though--by its very nature, it meant someone was escaping from something. "Rommie, any other craft in sight?"

"Not one. Nothing but the pod, and it’s drifting."

Dylan nodded. "You’re in charge of her," he told Harper and headed for the door. "And if anything happens--"

"Yeah, I get her out of there." 

He smiled, headed out into the corridor.

The pod was adrift, what scant power it had once had fading. "Anyway to tell how long it’s been drifting?" Beka asked.

"Depends on the model, what the battery power was like--" Harper handed Lea off to Trance and went to his station. "Are we bringing it aboard?"

"Probably. But carefully." Lea might not have nightmares these days about the arachnoids, but he still did. Occasionally. "I want that thing scanned thoroughly, Rommie. If there’s anything anomalous, I want to know about it before we bring it on board."

She nodded at him gravely. "Understood."

Beka gave him a curious look. "The, ah, things we’ve talked about?"

"Exactly." 

"Caution is definitely called for." Tyr’s tone was disapproving. "Human or not."

They watched on the screen, saw the display shift as Rommie activated forward sensors.

"One human," Rev said. "No other signs of life."

"Nothing anomalous," Rommie finally pronounced. "And it would appear to be free of any other passengers."

"Harper, bring it into Hangar 17. Rommie, I want a thorough sterilization on that thing."

"Repressurizing now," Rommie’s voice said.

They waited until the light went green; Dylan hit the control, raised his force lance. Tyr nodded, flanked him and they went in.

Pointless precautions. The occupant of the pod was clearly too weak to cycle the damn thing open; Dylan used the external controls, stepped away to avoid the rush of foul-smelling air.

"Air-scrubbers failed," Tyr said dispassionately.

Dylan nodded feelingly, peered inside. There was someone inside, curled in a nearly fetal position. Sighing at his own paranoia, he gestured Tyr back. "Cover me just in case." Dryly, and he held his breath, leaned into the pod and lifted; a young man, shockingly emaciated, dressed in a coverall with a familiar patch. "The Falco," he said tightly. "Give me a hand, Tyr, he’s no threat."

Between them, they got the young man--not much more than a boy, from the look of him--out onto the floor of the bay. The pulse under his fingers was thready and fast. "Medical emergency," he told Rommie shortly. "Have Trance meet us on med-deck, Rommie."

"Understood."

He nodded at Tyr, who grimaced. He didn’t blame Tyr; their guest was none too fresh and clean, and still reeked of the pod, where more than just the air-scrubbers had failed. Still, he was no heavy burden, given his state of emaciation, and it didn’t take a great deal of effort to get him to med-deck.

With all of them, there, it didn’t take long to manage him; dehydration and starvation, Trance diagnosed and promptly hooked the patient to life support. Once cleaner and semi-conscious, he drank when Trance held water to his lips, blinked in confusion at Dylan and sank back under.

Dylan brooded. "Is he going to live?"

"Yes," Trance said decisively. "But he’s been in there for a while."

"Call me when he’s conscious." He turned on his heel and went out.

Harper was no longer on command deck. He found him on the obs deck with Lea, pointing out various astronomical features. "There you are."

"Here I am," Harper agreed.

"Here _I_ am!" Lea said and rushed him, holding on to his knees. "Hi!"

"Hi yourself." He lifted her, took advantage of Lea being in the way to study Harper’s profile. Not too disturbed over their unexpected guest then. He wondered how long that would last, given what he was about to ask Lea. "I need you to take a look at somebody, Lea, and tell me if you know who they are."

She blinked at him. "What?"

Harper’s head swiveled and the calm was gone. "Wait a minute--"

"I need to know. He’s not conscious." Dylan said it quietly. "I’m not taking her down there, I’m going to have her look at the viewscreen."

Harper’s temper receded again. "Okay." Calmly. "Let’s have a look, then."

Dylan walked to the far wall. "Rommie, I need a view of our guest, best one you can get me."

Obviously, puzzled, Lea looked from him to Harper, who had followed them. "What do I do?"

The screen came to life, showing the patient on med-deck. "Lea, do you know who that is?"

She looked at the screen, shook her head. "I dunno." Not evasively, but there was a little frown as if something plucked at her memories. "He was on that thing that Abba brought in?"

"Yeah, he was." He kissed her temple. "Okay, that’s all I wanted."

She beamed at him, hugged his neck. "Okay. Come and see the stars with us."

Harper looked vaguely relieved. "Yeah, why don’t you."

"Sounds good to me." He offered Harper was he hoped was a reassuring smile. Lea glanced back at the viewscreen and that tiny frown reappeared, even though she didn’t say anything.

He wondered if she’d remember. Found himself hoping that she wouldn’t.

From Harper’s relief, he rather suspected Harper agreed with him.

It was another forty-eight hours before their "guest" was conscious long enough for Dylan to talk to him; Trance’s scans suggested that he’d been right in his first impression, that the young man was, in fact in late adolescence, if bone age and development were a true indication.

"We found your pod adrift," he told the young man. "I know you’re from the Falco, but I don’t know your name. Care to tell me how you came to be out there? Something happen to the Falco?"

"No." Hoarsely. "My name is Tregozzi, Dylan Philip Tregozzi."

Dylan considered the young face. "The son of Sabra Tregozzi?"

"Yes." Long look. "And you are Dylan Hunt."

"Yes." He smiled thinly. "How did you end up in the pod?"

Dylan Philip Tregozzi bit his lip, looked away. "I was supposed to die."

It felt like a blow to the stomach. "Why?"

Tregozzi shook his head. "It doesn’t matter." Bleakly. 

"Yes, it does." Flatly. "They sent you out in that pod to die? How old are you, anyway?"

"Eighteen." The boy looked around med-deck, fingers moving restlessly on the blankets. "I mean, nearly eighteen." Quick guilty look. "My mother ordered me in. Because I was supposed to die."

"How?" Dylan’s gut was knotted. "Some illness? Something like Lea’s?"

Another guilty look. "It’s not as bad as Lea’s was. Slower. It will kill me just the same, but my mother said I had a chance off the Falco. But she was supposed to put me to sleep." 

He’d hated before. But not like this. He kept his mask in place, didn’t let it show. "I see."

A third guilty look. "She told me that if someone picked me up, I should contact Andromeda and you. How did you find me? Did my mother get a message out?"

"Luck," Dylan said brutally. "What did she expect me to do?"

"I don’t know." 

Dylan thought perhaps that was the truth. Sabra knew, however, and while it left him bitter, allowing that bitterness to keep from curing the boy was wrong. "For the time being, you’re confined to med-deck. I’ll see that you’re made comfortable."

The boy nodded blankly. "I can still work comp, Captain."

__

_That_ startled him. "You? You can barely lift your head."

That touched on a young man’s pride; Dylan Philip Tregozzi turned a dull red. "I can still work comp," stubbornly, "I’m not a kid or a freerider, I can work to pay you back for passage and... this." 

God, he hated the Tregozzi, hated people who raised their children as if they were interchangeable parts. Hated even Sabra, who had deliberately aimed this boy at them. But he kept his tone gentle anyway. "We’ll see. Right now, you need to rest and recover. We’ll talk about it later."

Mollified, the boy nodded. "Thank you, Captain."

He turned to go, had his hand on the door control when the boy said, "Captain Hunt? When Lea died--it didn’t hurt her, did it? She wasn’t scared."

That made his throat ache. Clearing his throat, he turned. "No." Shortly.

"She wasn’t in the dark, was she? She was afraid of the dark." The boy’s voice cracked upward and he looked away again.

It felt like something with claws was tearing at his gut. "No." Shortly again and he opened the door, closed it behind him and leaned against it, rubbing his forehead. Harper was standing in front of a monitor, and his expression was troubled. "You were watching?"

"Yeah. I thought I should keep an eye on him." Harper sighed. "At least somebody cared about the munchkin."

Dylan joined him, saw their guest swiping at his eyes. "Dammit."

"Yeah." Dryly. "He can’t go back if they were going to put him down like that. We could tell him."

"And what about when he wants to see her?" Dylan frowned at the screen. "What then?"

Harper sighed. "Point taken. I’ll think about it, okay?"

"Okay." He put his arms around Harper, rubbed his cheek against Harper’s hair. "I don’t want her upset, either. And to tell you the truth, as petty as it is, I’m tired of cleaning up after Miriam Tregozzi’s bad choices."

Harper leaned against him. "Yeah, but that’s what this mission is all about, right? Making sure that people like Miriam don’t make other people suffer. At least, that’s a part of it."

"Listen to you." Dylan sighed. "And yes, I know you’re right. It doesn’t mean I have to like it on a personal basis."

Harper nodded. "Isn’t your shift over?"

He couldn’t help smiling. "Yeah, it is. Got something in mind?"

"Yeah. Dinner. I’m hungry and Lea gets cranky if we aren’t both there." Harper’s tone was comfortable. "Of course, once she’s sacked out, _then_ I have something in mind."

"Promises, promises."

"I’m not that domesticated, I’m just orderly. First, take care of the stomach, then take care of the kid, and then, whoa, it’s my turn."

The tone of Harper’s voice _did_ give Dylan a pleasant sensation somewhere around the base of his spine. Any more thinking about it, and he’d have a pleasant sensation elsewhere as well, and med-deck was probably _not_ the place to do that. "I’m certainly in sympathy with those plans," he said and turned Harper toward the door. "The sooner, the better."

Harper chuckled. "Good, glad to hear it. I’ll make it worth your while."

"You always do," Dylan murmured. "You always do."

  


* * *

For the first time in months, Lea re-enacted the events on Chi station after she’d eaten. Looking at this askance, Harper tried to cajole her into playing a game with him; she’d recently gotten very good at puzzle games, and was usually thrilled to have someone offer to play with her, but tonight....

It made Dylan feel guilty. He’d never told Harper what he’d discussed with Sabra Tregozzi, never told Harper just how Lea had been rescued from death. He hadn’t wanted Harper to think about it period, and as Lea acted it out less and less, it hadn’t seemed necessary.

Now, with her rescuer on med-deck, it was beginning to look like perhaps it was.

He wasn’t a complete fool, nor was he altruistic enough to tell Harper before Harper jumped him. No, that he was not, and if anyone in the universe was altruistic enough to stop a naked Harper from working magic with lips and tongue and fingertips, he’d like to meet them just to understand their madness.

And then, of course, he couldn’t say anything after, because that would really screw up Harper’s languid, lovely mood--complete with smart-ass remarks about his age, of course--and so he let it go. For the moment.

Resolved to tell Harper later.

Maybe tomorrow.

But in the morning, he went to talk to the Tregozzi boy again, and this time, Harper decided to go with him. "Hey, I could always use a hand, once he’s on his feet," Harper said, the telling argument. "We need to know what kind of skills he has."

So Harper went in with him, and being faced with someone other than the "progenitor" of his clan, the boy seemed more relaxed. 

"What’s your name again?" Harper asked idly, after Dylan had gotten a few halting answers.

"Dylan Philip Tregozzi." A sudden, diffident smile and Harper’s eyes widened. "But most of my cousins just call--" The smile faded a little. "They called me Pip. My mother’s cousin is a Dylan, too, so it kept things simple."

"Pip." Harper’s expression was blank. He looked at Dylan after a moment, eyes shocked. "Listen, nice to meet you, I gotta go, Dylan."

Dylan was too shell-shocked to stop him. It was one thing to have Sabra Tregozzi tell him something, one thing to recognize that this boy was the one who had saved Lea, but it was another to attach the name Pip to him. "Ah, yeah, okay." It was another thing to see Harper realize it.

He’d always said Harper was brilliant. 

It was his training that saved him. He sat and talked gravely of what Pip’s duties on the Falco had been, of what skills he had. He questioned Pip as any good captain would, wanting to know his qualifications, wanting to understand what his training had been.

And then he walked out with absolutely no memory of any of it. 

Harper entered med-deck, carrying Lea. Gave Dylan a grim look. "You know who that is."

Dylan nodded. "Ah, yes."

"Pip is here?" Lea’s voice was hopeful. "Pip’s okay?"

"Yeah, munchkin," Harper said absently. "He’s here. We’re going to go and see him."

Lea clapped her hands. "Pip is here!"

Dylan stood in front of the door. "Is that a good idea?" he asked Harper.

"He’s the only one of ‘em who ever did anything for Lea," Harper snapped suddenly. "He deserves to know she’s not dead."

She was Harper’s child, he told himself, but he stood still anyway. Rubbed his forehead. "All right." Mildly.

Harper reached out, put a hand on his shoulder. "Besides, you know, he’s got your smile." And with that bomb delivered, Harper took Lea inside the quarantine room.

  


* * *

The kid didn’t look like Dylan. Not really. His hair was a darker brown, and he had dark eyes. His face _might_ take on a similar shape as he got older and broader, but the thing that was striking was the way he smiled. 

Same smile. Younger, less certain, but same smile.

It was actually sort of spooky, Harper thought, watching Lea make a fuss over Pip and watching Pip goggle at Lea. Dylan was always saying that Lea looked like her dad, but now that these two were together, the indefinable resemblance to Dylan surfaced. 

Really spooky.

Had he been attracted to Dylan because of Fatima? He considered that uneasily, decided it was garbage and jettisoned the thought. He’d been glad to escape Fatima with certain bits of his anatomy in one piece, and if anything, that elusive resemblance had probably kept him from acting on his attraction to Dylan at first. That and his history with Bannon, of course, but that was another thing that he didn’t need to think about either. No point to it.

"You’re so big," Pip marveled out loud. 

"I am a big girl. Beka says." Sidelong look from the munchkin.

"You aren’t _that_ big a girl," Harper said quellingly. "So don’t get started again." She had tried that defense when caught on her journey of exploration. "You’re not big enough to wander around the ship alone until _Dylan_ says you are."

Lea gestured airily. "I know, I know."

"Sassbritches," Harper muttered.

It got a penitent look. "I’m not sassing, Abba. Honest."

"Good." 

Pip had watched this exchange, a little bemused.

"This is my abba, Pip," she said again.

"You said," he agreed and said something in Chari.

Lea ignored this, blinked at him and held her arms out for Harper. "Help me down, please?"

Harper swung her down to the floor. "I don’t think she likes to hear Chari," he told Pip, trying to keep his tone civil. "It reminds her of some things she doesn’t like, things we’d just as soon she forgot."

The kid went scarlet. "I didn’t think." Shakily. "I’m sorry."

"S’okay. Just thought you should know." Harper nodded at Lea. "She really has grown. We’re crazy about her."

"Even Captain Hunt?" Pip was still a little shaky.

"He spoils her rotten." Harper leaned back in the chair, watched Lea examining the tubes running out from under Pip’s blankets. "Don’t touch."

"I know, I know. No touching without asking. Pip is okay?" She turned her face up to him, her expression worried.

Harper nodded. "He was kinda sick when he got here, munchkin, but he’s gonna be fine."

Solemn nod. "Like me?"

Harper’s stomach did a lazy roll. "Yeah, munchkin, kinda like that." 

"I feel fine," Pip told her earnestly. "I do, Lea. Much better."

She beamed at him. "Good, good, good!" Abruptly, she climbed up into Harper’s lap. "Pip will stay with us. And he will be good." Solemn expression. "Better than me!"

Pip grinned involuntarily. "Well, you’re just a little. Littles forget things sometimes."

"They do," Harper agreed. "And so we keep reminding them and reminding them."

Pip’s grin got wider. "Well, she has everything to learn after being sick so long."

Harper nodded. It was impossible not to ask, even though he’d sworn to himself that he wouldn’t. "What was it like for her?"

A wary look then. "She was sick." As if that was self-explanatory. "She had to stay in the infirmary all the time. She couldn’t be in the nursery with the other littles, she’d get hurt. She didn’t get to go onstation. When she got sicker, she couldn’t even crawl any more."

"Stop, stop, stop!" Lea put her hands over her ears, clearly unhappy. "No, no, no. I’m not sick now."

Disturbed, Harper tipped her chin up. "Hey, I know that. Pip knows that. I just didn’t get to see you when you were a tiny baby, so I wanted to know."

She took her hands off her ears and put her hands over his mouth. "No, no, no." Very soberly.

He nodded, amused and annoyed at the same time.

"You’re a big girl now," Pip said, earning an approving smile. "It’s all right to tell Abba, it won’t make you sick again."

"No." Lea scowled at Pip. 

It bothered Harper a lot. "Even if you were still sick, munchkin, we’d love you."

That got a long, thoughtful look. She grinned suddenly, hugged his neck. "I love you, Abba."

"Ditto, munchkin." He was still superstitious.

Pip’s expression was... wistful. That killed him, it really did. And he’d been wrong, the kid’s eyes might be dark, but they had the same shape and set as Dylan’s. Which made it worse, seeing that wistfulness. "You need anything? Trance show you how to work the console?"

Pip nodded, and let his head fall back. "She’s very kind." Peculiar tone. "I need to work, I can’t repay all this."

Harper’s stomach turned. "I get the part about wanting to work, but you don’t have to repay anything. Dylan picked you up because you were adrift."

"My grandmother said that he threatened to destroy the Falco." Wary look.

"Not exactly. But I can see why she’d say so." Harper stood up, holding Lea. "He’s not real fond of the way your clan deals with, ah, sick kids."

Pip flushed again. "That was Fatima." Subdued.

"Yeah, what do you call what they were going to do to you?"

Pip looked away. "That’s just sense. I’m--" He swallowed hard, throat working. "I’m defective, I’m a drain on the ship."

"That’s such... crap." He couldn’t help it, his anger colored his voice and Lea looked at him, alarmed. "They were going to put you down and you were going to let them? Is that the deal?"

"What choice was there?" Pip flared back at him, but his eyes were awfully bright. "At least it would have been painless and quick."

"Yeah, so they can excuse it and convince you that it’s right. Look, kid--Pip, that’s crap. They sold you that line from the time you were a kid, but it’s still crap."

"It’s crap," Lea agreed, relieved. "Crap, crap, crap."

"You hush," Harper told her, trying not to laugh. "She’s got lessons with Rev, I need to take her down. We’ll stop by after shift so she can say goodnight."

"Bye bye, Pip," Lea said cheerfully. "Be good for Trance. Trance is nice."

Pip nodded, but his mouth trembled. "I will." Shakily.

Harper left, feeling like he’d just kicked the kid in the teeth. "You know, munchkin, I’m damn glad you ended up with us."

"Me, too!" She kissed his cheek, wrinkled her nose. "Abba, you’re all scratchy."

He pretended he was going to rub his beard stubble on her again, got the usual delighted shriek, and then carried her off to Rev.

Dylan was brooding on command deck. He thought he knew why. Dylan had already guessed or figured out who Pip was, and hadn’t told him, and was now kicking himself hard for that omission. He’d already known that Dylan damn well hadn’t told him everything he’d discussed with Sabra Tregozzi, but he hadn’t pushed it, had reckoned that whatever it was had broken the back of the depression that had plagued Dylan and that was enough for him.

Now he had to keep that brooding from turning into another bout, given that Dylan was as sickened by the Tregozzi method of dealing with "defective" offspring as the rest of them.

He leaned against the pilot’s chair, got a wary look. "When did you figure out who Pip was?"

Dylan looked away. "When he told me his mother was Sabra Tregozzi." Flatly.

Definitely brooding. "Yeah, I figured it was before I did, but hearing Pip really shocked you."

Dylan glanced at him, sighed. "Sabra Tregozzi told me that her son Dylan had gotten Lea off Chi station. I--I didn’t think telling you was the best idea, I didn’t want you thinking more about it. Hell, I didn’t want to think about it anyway."

"Yeah, I get that. Those people are a waste of oxygen--at least the adults are." Harper held Dylan’s gaze for a minute. "You talk to Rommie about the genetic therapy thing?"

"Already done. He’s going to feel worse before he feels better, I’m afraid."

"Yeah, I remember." Harper nodded. "You going to send him back?"

That got a reaction all right, both of Dylan’s eyebrows slanted down. "Hell, no."

"Depending on what his skill-sets are, and how quick he learns--I could always use a hand. There’s a lot of Andromeda and only one me." Harper smiled as innocently as he could manage. "Think about it."

Dylan stared at him. "What?"

"And if he learns quick, I can teach him." Mildly.

"You’re serious?"

"Damn right, I am." 

Dylan’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "You don’t even know him, we don’t know how trustworthy he is."

Harper shrugged. "We’ll find out. I’m just saying--" Another shrug. Dylan wanted to be convinced, he thought, and he was just the guy to do it. But he had to do it carefully. "Got work to do. I’ll see you later."

Dylan nodded blankly. "Yeah."

He grinned. "Stop brooding."

"I’m not." Guiltily and Dylan shifted in the pilot’s chair, attempted to look as if he hadn’t been caught in the act.

"Hmmm." Harper gave him another innocent look, headed on back to the machine shop, laughing a little under his breath. 

  


* * *

It was a few days before Pip was well enough to be cut loose of med-deck anyway, and during that time, Dylan heard from Trance, from Beka--who had clearly been primed by Harper--and even Rev.

He was feeling beleaguered and it wasn’t as if the solution didn’t make sense. He honestly wasn’t sure why he was resistant, unless it was simply that he didn’t like having things out of his control. He didn’t want to believe that it had anything to do with the fact that Dylan Philip Tregozzi seemed to be winning over the crew one by one. It was absurd to resent that, it was absurd to feel... well, whatever he was feeling.

"I guess I just don’t understand how you can be sure he’s okay," he finally told Harper after dinner on the fourth day. "He’s been _raised_ by the equivalent of the Beans."

Harper gave him a long look. "I’m not sure. But he seems okay, and hey, Lea’s crazy about him."

"Yeah, I see that." Grumpily.

Harper stared at him. Started to laugh. "You’re jealous!"

"The hell!" He got up, picked up Lea’s empty plate. Thank god, Lea had gone into her room to play.

"Not jealous of me," Harper amended. "But of Lea. Or something."

He scowled at Harper. "I certainly am not."

"Hey, if you say you’re not, you’re not. You sure don’t have any reason to be." Harper gave him a spuriously innocent smile. "He’s Pip, sure, but you’re her other dad."

Dylan disposed of the dishes. Stood staring at the counter. "Am I?"

Arms went around him from behind and he started; Harper was getting better at sneaking up on him. "Yeah, you are. Don’t tell me you haven’t figured that out." Comfortable, comforting voice. "I think it’s great. I can’t do this myself."

"You do better than you think," he said and turned to face Harper. 

Harper smiled crookedly at him. "Maybe. But I still think it’s great."

In that case... he leaned in and kissed Harper. "I’m not jealous, I’m just... unsettled."

Harper pulled him down and kissed him again. "Yeah, I get that. Weird enough having Lea show up, and she’s partly yours, but now another one of yours shows up."

He wasn’t sure that was entirely what the problem was, but Harper had a good point. "Yeah. And this one isn’t a cute little kid." Dryly.

"He’s okay, Dylan. That’s what my gut tells me. And let’s face it, how loyal can he feel to the people who were going to give him a lethal injection and then toss him out an airlock?"

"They’ve had him his entire life." But he kept hearing Lea’s voice tell him Pip had helped the baby. 

"And he saved Lea anyway. If he believed any of that, he’d have let her die. Better economic sense."

There _was_ that. He pulled Harper closer, rubbed his cheek against Harper’s hair. "True. And it isn’t as though we’re exactly overstaffed."

Harper burrowed into him. "Yeah, and just think how annoying Tyr will find it to have two reminders of our superiority."

"Oh, I don’t know," Dylan said morbidly, "Yours maybe. The rest of my genes are in residence on the Falco, and you know what they are."

Harper pulled back and scowled at him. "We know what the powers that be on the Falco are. They can’t all be that bad or Pip wouldn’t have had enough humanity to get Lea off the station."

"Granted." He pulled Harper back, hugged him hard. "Don’t worry, I’m not going to sink back into the pit because of this."

Harper burrowed again. "Damn right." A growl.

The shadows beckoned, he had to admit it privately. But he had no reason to dwell on them, not with what he had that was good. "Of course, we don’t have any reason to believe he wants to stay on Andromeda."

"Oh, yeah, right, like that’s a choice." Harper poked him in the ribs, pulled away. "Let’s see, he can hustle for work on whatever station, hoping like hell that somebody is desperate enough to hire a kid without papers to work on a freighter, he can peddle his ass--" Sickened, Dylan made a short, abortive movement and Harper was back with him, holding him hard. "Hey, hey, don’t go there. Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that."

He pressed his cheek against Harper’s hair again. "No, it’s just a twitch, I’m fine."

"Yeah, right." Harper’s voice was soft. "You worry too much about the past, Dylan."

He smiled faintly. "It’s not worrying, exactly."

"Imagining, then. I shouldn’t have said that." Regretful.

"Now who’s worrying?" He goosed Harper, got a satisfactory yelp. "Besides, your point was a good one. He can stay here and work with a freaking genius and learn his trade, and maybe learn that the Tregozzi way isn’t universal or he can float from one place to another and learn that maybe a lethal injection wasn’t such a bad way to go."

"Uh, yeah." Harper’s gaze was apologetic. "All I meant was that the kid is no way stupid, Dylan."

He didn’t like the apology, didn’t think it was necessary. So he kissed Harper until Harper’s gaze went blurry and unfocused. "I’ll go talk to him."

"Now?" Indignant.

"Let me point out, Lea’s playing in the next room." He grinned wickedly. "Of course, if she’s in bed when I get back...."

"Count on it," Harper said fervently.

He was still laughing when he stepped into the corridor.

  


* * *

The boy was tottering around med-deck while leaning on Trance’s shoulder when Dylan arrived. Dylan supposed that he looked better than he had, but since he’d looked nearly dead on his arrival, that wasn’t saying a great deal.

For some reason, he hadn’t allowed himself to see just how young the boy really was; he thought of Harper at that age and felt an echo of helpless rage. There wasn’t any point to it, Bannon was dead and Harper was alive and well and dammit, apparently happy.

"See," Trance said, "You’re doing fine."

"I need to be up and working," the boy said softly and then glanced up, saw him.

Dylan put what he hoped was a reassuring smile on his face. "I think I agree with Trance," he said, "You’re certainly doing a lot better."

Trance helped her charge back to his bed, and Dylan dragged a chair over, trying not to notice that he was apparently an intimidating presence. "I wanted to talk to you about your future--do you mind if I call you Philip? Or do you really prefer Pip?"

That got a faint, diffident smile. "I actually prefer Philip, but I couldn’t get anyone to change. They just kept calling me Pip."

Dylan nodded. "I’d suggest Dylan, but there’s that confusion factor." 

Philip nodded, and the phantom smile faded. Watchful expression, a lot wary and maybe just a little scared.

That made his gut knot. "I wanted to offer you a berth on Andromeda, unless you have other plans. Harper says you’ve got the right sort of background, he can train you. I’m afraid you’ll mostly get paid in food and board and medical care, although we’re finally managing to get some of our Commonwealth members to, ah, set aside funds for Andromeda. I would imagine Trance has filled you in somewhat on our mission--" He glanced back at Trance, who grinned at him. "You don’t have to make a decision right away, of course," he added and looked back at Philip, who had laced his fingers tightly together and gone paler than the sheets on his bed.

Alarmed, he stood up, put a hand on the thin shoulder. "Lie down before you fall down," he said.

Philip shook his head. "I’m all right. I can work." Shaky voice, just short of frantic. "And yes, I’d like to stay."

"You can’t work," Dylan said, more gently. "Not yet. Don’t worry, Harper’s a maniac, you need to get all the rest you can before Trance releases you from medical care."

Philip blinked hard several times. "A maniac?"

"He never rests," Trance said cheerfully. "And he drinks too much Sparky cola."

That, at least, Philip apparently understood, he smiled shyly at Trance. "Oh." An earnest look at Dylan. "I’m a good worker, sir, and I learn fast. I’m not that sick--"

"No." Dylan and Trance said it in unison, and Dylan grinned. "She’s a very strict medical officer. If you really want to stay, you’ve got plenty of time to work, believe me."

Philip looked doubtful. "But--"

"This isn’t the Falco." The words escaped him before he could stop them, before he could consider that the Falco had been the boy’s entire world, his entire family.

Philip blinked hard a few times. "No, sir." Muted voice.

He clasped the boy’s shoulder again. "I’m sorry, that came out more harshly than I intended. Things are different here, that’s all I can tell you." Softly.

Philip’s gaze didn’t meet his, but Philip nodded. "Yes, sir." Still muted.

There wasn’t much more he could say at this point. So he just gently squeezed Philip’s shoulder. "Get some rest," he told the boy awkwardly. "And tomorrow, I’ll have Harper come up with some sort of training schedule. While your body’s healing, your mind can keep busy."

That got him a hopeful look as a reward. "Yes, sir." Obediently.

Once, he would have been glad of that kind of unquestioning obedience. Now it only made him wonder more about the Falco. He smiled, forced himself not to think about it. "Be careful, if you get me used to that again, I’ll start wanting salutes and the entire crew will mutiny."

Philip blinked at him.

"That was a joke," he said gently.

Philip blushed. "Oh. I’m sorry, sir."

He laughed a little. "We’ll all need some time to learn about each other. For the moment, listen to Trance. Unless she’s piloting in slipstream, you can’t go wrong."

Trance dimpled at him. "And since I won’t do that again, you’re safe."

Philip smiled at her again, and Dylan was freshly stricken by guilt. He’d been so busy being angry with Miriam Tregozzi and her lot that he’d missed the fact that he hadn’t picked up a monster, he’d picked up a shy, badly damaged adolescent.

With, if Harper was to be believed, Dylan’s own smile. He didn’t see it himself, but oddly, eerily, he could see the faintest ghostly impression of his own father around Philip’s eyes and brow.

Genetics. The same thing that had made both Lea and Philip sick evoked that sense of familiarity when he looked at them. 

He smiled again at Philip. "It’s going to be all right. I know it’s hard to believe, but it will."

He saw the faintest spark of response in the dark eyes, maybe the beginning of trust. "Thank you, sir." Faintly.

And that was about all he could stand.

  


* * *

Harper was in the shower when Dylan returned to their quarters. He veered to Lea’s and found her in bed. Wide awake and reading, naturally, which was the usual state of affairs and one they’d given up trying to change.

She sat up immediately when he came in. "Dylan, Abba made me go to bed and I’m not tired."

It was hard not to grin at the plaintive tone in her voice. "Did he?"

She practically flounced. "He did. And when I told him I wasn’t tired, he said he was."

Dylan sat down on the edge of her bed, ruffled silky curls. "Well, you’re a handful, minx. You have a busy mind and busy hands."

Lea sulked. "I was very good today, Dylan." She stood up, climbed into his lap. "Abba says Pip can stay, right?" Anxious look upward.

"Yes, minx, Philip is staying." He kissed the tip of her nose. "He likes to be called Philip."

"But I like to call him Pip," she said reasonably.

He smiled. "Don’t you think it would be nice if you called him what _he_ liked? Do you want to be called Amalea?"

She considered that, sighed in resignation. "I guess not."

"So you would rather have us call you Lea?" He grinned.

"I guess so." She sighed again, stood on his lap to get her hug. "I’m going to read some more."

He hugged her tightly. "That’s fair enough." Rubbed her back. "You’re getting so big, minx. What are we feeding you to make you grow so fast?"

A giggle in his ear. "Good stuff!"

Laughing, he lifted her up and put her back in bed. "That must be it."

More giggles and then another hug around his neck and he left her. Harper was still in the shower. 

It was an attractive image. Smiling, he sat down on the end of the bed and took off his boots, went into the bathroom and stripped off the rest of his clothes.

Face under the spray, Harper yelped in startlement, then laughed and leaned back against him. "Damn, I was hoping to be spread out enticingly on the bed when you got back."

"You’re pretty damned enticing in the shower, too," Dylan growled and bit Harper’s shoulder gently. "It’s done, he’s staying, and I need you to provide him something to keep his brain busy tomorrow."

"Can do." Harper turned around, offered him a sly grin and slid down his body. 

It wasn’t quite what he’d planned, but who cared? Harper’s mouth closed around him, and Harper feeling horny and playful was something that banished any tendencies to brooding. Harper feeling playful also meant that Harper teased him unmercifully until Dylan took hold of Harper’s hair and tugged him up again.

"Ow--Is that a complaint about my technique?" Wicked grin, even though Harper rubbed his scalp.

"The hell," Dylan said hoarsely and pushed Harper against the side of the shower stall. Held Harper there and kissed him hungrily. "But your speed and diligence are in question."

"This from the guy who lectures me about patience?" Harper put both arms around his neck. "So fuck me already."

"Here and now?" Dylan kissed him again, ground their bodies together. 

"Uh." Unfocused gaze. "Here. Now. On the floor. In bed, I don’t care."

Floor. Floor sounded good. Rug burn was a possibility, of course, but there was lubricant in the cabinet... too bad it was water soluble, or he’d just grab it, but then again, the water didn’t have to be running.....

Somehow, he managed to turn off the tap, get the lubricant, and slide into the welcoming clench of Harper’s flesh without ever totally disengaging Harper’s arms. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Harper chanted in his ear and wrapped both legs around him. "That’s good, oh, god, yeah, that’s really good." Effortful voice.

Awkward and hot and Harper was still wet, he was still wet, and Harper’s cock pressed against him. "Good isn’t the word." Hoarsely and he began to move, slow thrusts until he couldn’t keep it slow any longer; Harper had teased him too long, and Harper’s steady litany of instructions, imprecations, and profanity pushed him closer and then, a little surprisingly, Harper’s arms went almost too damn snug and Harper shouted in his ear, wordless and ecstatic and that was it, he followed Harper over that edge.

They both slid into an awkward heap; Dylan’s legs felt a little too wobbly to support both of them, and Harper laughed into Dylan’s throat, nipped him. "Thought you were going to drop me for a minute there."

Dylan leaned back against the side of the stall. "Not very damn likely." He felt almost bonelessly relaxed. "I know where my priorities are."

Harper licked the tip of his nose. "I hope so, because I’m getting cold."

"I suppose that means you expect me to let go of you. I ask purely out of curiosity as I have no intention of letting go."

"Then you better be ready to pick me up, because I don’t like being cold."

He goosed Harper. "Brat."

"Old man." But Harper leaned in and kissed him. "Come on, you’re going to get cold, too."

"I’ll just hang out here a while until my legs are working again."

Harper grinned and stood up, turned the tap on again. Held out a hand.

Sighing, Dylan took it, got to his feet. Much nuzzling, a little languid lathering, and a brisk toweling down followed, with very little effort on his part. 

Once in bed, Harper turned on a vid, but settled in to doze against him within about fifteen minutes. He let it play, turned the audio down and the lights off, let himself just soak in the warmth of Harper’s sleeping self.

It was beginning to look as though Rommie was right after all. Andromeda wasn’t, precisely, a warship any longer. He’d known that, of course, at least on the intellectual level, that was the entire goal of his self-appointed lunatic mission.

Change wasn’t always a bad thing. At least he hoped not.

  


* * *

The really weird thing was, Harper reflected, was that he liked the kid. He thought he could cheerfully cut Fatima’s throat, but he liked her brother. 

Lea’s uncle. That was another really weird thing.

But the key point is that he was going to get an apprentice engineer, and even with a learning curve, that was so fucking fantastic, he could hardly believe Dylan had agreed to it.

He’d been almost certain Dylan was gearing himself up to ditch the kid at their next stop. Which just showed that he’d been betting on Dylan’s emotional reactions when he should have been betting on Dylan’s rational self.

Whistling as he pulled out a board and checked the circuits, he didn’t hear Beka until she touched his shoulder and nearly cost him ten years of his life by scaring him to death. "Jeez, Beka," he complained. "Make some noise, willya?"

She grinned at him unrepentantly. "I hear we have a new crew member."

Harper grinned back. "Yeah. Kid’s smart, too. Better trained than I thought he would be, and he’s like a sponge. An obsessed sponge, but hey, I figure that’s Dylan’s genetic contribution."

Beka’s grin dimmed a bit. "Or the fact that his family treated him like he was disposable."

"That, too," Harper agreed. "Dylan’s in med-deck about once a day to back up Madame Violette, the kid wants to get cracking."

"Now _that’s_ Dylan’s genetic contribution." Beka laughed softly. "I’d love to see that."

"It’s about that time again," Harper told her cheerfully. "And where’s _my_ kid? I thought it was your detail."

"She’s with Rev. He’s taking care of some of Trance’s plants today for her, since she’s having to babysit Philip." Beka laughed again. "Think Dylan would have a stroke if I gave the kid some piloting lessons?"

"Hey, if you can teach me, you can teach anyone. Besides, there’s Dylan’s genetic heritage." 

Beka cracked up. "You’re a little fixated on that, aren’t you?"

He slid the board back in. "Hard not to be. Healthier the kid gets, more he looks like Dylan."

Beka smirked. "And that means?"

He glanced up at her, a little puzzled, then put it together. "Get your mind out of the gutter." Growled it. "He’s a kid, Beka. And even if he wasn’t, I’ve got what I want."

Beka was still smirking. "I thought you had an open relationship?"

He was getting mad and trying not to. "And I told you, we changed our minds." Straightening, he counted to ten. "All I meant was that he could be Dylan’s kid, from the resemblance." His voice was harsher than he’d intended, and Beka’s expression was suddenly penitent.

"Hey, easy, I’m just kidding you." She put a hand on his shoulder.

A little embarrassed, he nodded. "Okay." Felt compelled to explain, if only to himself. "What I’ve got, I don’t wanna lose, Beka. Especially if Dylan hears you and doesn’t think you’re joking."

"Dylan’s not that stupid," Beka said firmly and patted him. "But I get it. No more kidding on that subject."

He felt awkward suddenly. "Thanks."

"De nada." Airily. "I’d better retrieve Lea and turn her over to the boss. He insisted on having some time with her." 

Harper grinned. "She’s got him wound around her little finger."

"Says the pot about the kettle." Beka grinned again, sauntered off.

The hell of it was, he couldn’t even tell her she was wrong.

  


* * *

"We going to see Pip?"

Dylan looked down, sighed inwardly. He supposed it was pointless to try and break Lea of the habit right away. Besides, she was still so very little, small fingers clasping his, and it was obvious that Philip was willing to put up with it. "That’s right."

She tugged at his hand, bounced happily. "Yay!"

"He’s still getting better, but he thinks he should be working, so I thought maybe a Lea visit would cheer him up."

"He has to listen to the captain," she said virtuously.

"He should, yes. Unless he learns from a Lea." He smiled down at her, chuckled at her mortified look. "You’re doing better, minx, don’t take it to heart."

"What’s that mean?" Bright eyed look and she bounced again.

"It means don’t feel badly if I tease you a little." He leaned down, swung her up. "You’re doing a _lot_ better these days."

"Cuz I’m a big girl." Lea beamed at him. "I’m three." She held up three fingers proudly.

"You certainly are." There was a chirrus petal stuck in her collar. He flicked it free and she squirmed happily. 

"That tickles, Dylan." A giggle.

"Don’t tempt me, minx." He stopped at med-deck, pressed the door control. Trance was standing in the middle of the room looking exasperated and the object of her exasperation was clearly a rather sheepish Philip. He arched a questioning eyebrow at Trance.

"I leave him for twenty minutes and come back and he’s on his way out."

"I was just walking around," Philip protested. "I won’t ever get stronger if I don’t get up."

"He’s got a point, Trance," Dylan said mildly, reckoning with seventeen-year-old pride and a desire to prove himself. "I’ll keep an eye on him, you take a break for a while. Philip, walk with us a while."

Philip brightened visibly, and Dylan again saw the phantom resemblance to his own father. He was getting used to that, but it still--it wasn’t quite unsettling, just something he’d never expected to see in anyone else’s face. 

Trance sighed. "All right, but don’t let him get too carried away, Dylan."

"My word of honor," Dylan said solemnly. Philip flicked him a shy grin, and followed him out of med-deck.

"Thank you, sir." Another sidelong look. "It’s just... I really am feeling better."

"I know that feeling," Dylan said, finding sympathy for the boy. "Recuperation, as Harper says, sucks."

Another quick grin flickered. "Heya, little. Are you being good today?"

"I’m always good," Lea said virtuously, and then amended it, "Mostly."

"Mostly is right," Dylan told her and put her on her feet. "I think we’ll head toward the obs deck, but you tell me if you get wobbly. Pushing too hard isn’t a good idea either, it’ll just set your recovery back."

Philip gave him an earnest look. "Yes, sir."

"Dylan," he said, for perhaps the twentieth time. "Just Dylan."

"Dylan," Lea echoed and bounced, reached for a hand on either side.

The look Philip gave her was so affectionate it made Dylan’s throat ache. At least the minx had had someone who loved her on that ship, at least, at least. It said a great deal about her capacity to love them, he supposed, but he wasn’t a psychological expert. 

"I missed you," she told Philip gravely. "It’s good you came here! Dylan and Abba are good!"

That made the lump in his throat get bigger, but he smiled down at her, glanced at Philip. "She doesn’t hold grudges, even when we scold her."

"I’m good," Lea said earnestly. "I listen to the captain." Mischievous grin. "And to Dylan."

It was a surprisingly sophisticated concept for a child of three. Dylan blinked, grinned back at her. "And we both appreciate it."

Lea laughed happily and bounced again, then launched into a recital of everything "good" about the Andromeda for Philip’s benefit. It gave Dylan the opportunity to further observe Philip who listened with grave attention, and asked the right questions and managed not to laugh at Lea’s exaggerations.

Amazingly, they reached the obs deck, although Philip confessed, once there, that he needed to rest a bit before starting back. Lea began some game that involved what Dylan suspected was an imaginary playmate; when Harper arrived in search of her, he joined in for real, leaving Dylan to sit beside Philip in peace.

"Philip," he began, and sighed. "I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I feel like I need to understand the Tregozzis a little better."

Philip’s expression shifted to wary. "Sir?" Then, when Dylan looked at him, he flushed. "Um. Dylan."

"I need to understand just how they could decide that it was time for you to...." The words nearly stuck in his throat. "Time for you to die. How your mother could let them do that."

"She didn’t want to." Earnest tone. "That’s why she made me get in the pod. The Council told her it was time."

Dylan tried to keep his face from showing his... reaction to that. "The Council?"

"The seniors." Philip looked unhappy. "You know, the senior officers in the family."

"Maybe you had better start out by explaining the family," Dylan said, managed to keep his voice kind. "That might help me understand."

Philip looked baffled. Rubbed his forehead. "I can explain it better in Chari," he said helplessly. "It makes more sense that way."

"Ah." Well, Rev was spiritual advisor. "Would you mind explaining it to Rev Bem? He speaks Chari fluently, whereas mine is decidedly rusty."

Relieved, Philip nodded. "I can do that."

He wondered if part of that relief was not having to talk about it. Harper came up then with Lea on his hip. "Hey, kid, you’re looking better today. How’s the reading coming?"

Philip flushed, but happily. "I think well. I need to see the circuits, but I understand. I think."

The uncertainty of being seventeen, compounded by a family who weighed his value in profit and loss. Dylan eyed him. "I think we’ve got some quarters for you. If you feel up to it, we can walk over that way, let you have a look."

"I’d like that." Happily again.

Harper grinned. "They used to be mine, but I didn’t leave you any unpleasant surprises. We’ve gutted a lot of the rest to sell stuff or use various bits for repair."

Philip laughed, ducked his head. "I’m sure they will be fine."

"Coffee, showers." Harper grinned at Dylan. "Hey, they sold me."

"Was that it?" He arched an eyebrow, laughed at Harper’s delight. "Shall we?"

"We shall," Lea crowed.

They were all laughing as they left the obs deck.

Harper’s former quarters were pristine, save for a few small touches clearly left for Philip’s benefit. Dylan glanced at Harper, arched an eyebrow in approval and thanks, and nearly stepped on Philip, who had stopped suddenly, his expression uncertain.

"You don’t like ‘em, there’s plenty more to choose from," Harper said.

"No!" Startled look and Philip shook his head, went scarlet. "They’re.... I knew Andromeda was big, I just...." Shaky voice, and there was sweat beading Philip’s forehead. 

Alarmed, Dylan guided the boy to the bed, made him sit down. "Take it easy, Philip."

Shaky nod and Philip leaned forward, elbows on knees. Harper appeared with a damp cloth; for lack of any better ideas, Dylan put it on the back of Philip’s neck. Philip shivered, bowed his head. "S-s-sorry."

"Don’t be ridiculous, we pushed you a little hard today, that’s all." Dylan patted the boy’s shoulder awkwardly.

Harper frowned. "Hey, Philip, if this is too big, if it’s going to bother you, we can work something else out."

Dylan opened his mouth, closed it. Bitterly reflected that Harper seemed to understand far better than he did. "He’s right."

Philip shook his head. "No, no, it’s wonderful, I just got--" Quick sidelong look at Dylan, a little rueful. "I just got ‘wobbly.’"

Lea gave up trying to open a cupboard and came over to study Philip, one finger in her mouth. "Poor Pip," she said mournfully. "You got wobbly." 

Dylan eyed her suspiciously. "He did," he agreed.

"Pip’s room is bigger," she said, proving his suspicion was justified.

"No, it isn’t," Harper told her.

"Yes, t’is." Scowling. 

"No, it isn’t," Dylan said firmly. "It may look bigger because Philip doesn’t have umpteen billion toys strewn around his room."

Philip made a choked sound, put the back of his hand to his mouth.

Lea stared at Dylan. "I don’t have umpteen gazillion toys, Dylan." Pityingly.

"It only seems that way when they’re strewn everywhere," Harper told her quellingly.

Lea’s scowl grew more pronounced. "Dam’ Dylan."

Dylan’s jaw dropped. Harper gave Lea one swift, startled look and then swatted her backside. More sound than force, but she gaped at him for an instant before beginning to howl. "You don’t _ever_ talk to Dylan like that," Harper roared, over the howling. "Never ever!"

"Harper," Dylan began, but couldn’t make himself heard. 

Grim expression on Harper, who took Lea’s hand and tugged her out of Philip’s quarters decisively; the sound cut off the moment the door closed behind them.

With the noise level down, Dylan became aware that Philip was laughing helplessly while trying very hard not to.

"That will teach us not to watch our language," he told Philip dryly. 

Giving it up, Philip put a hand over the damp cloth and straightened. "It’s horrible to laugh, but her expression--"

It _had_ been almost comical. "I wonder how he’s going to calm her down."

Philip looked around the room. "This is--on the Falco, I had much less space."

"The idea here was to provide the optimal environment for personnel far from home and forced to spend long periods of time in space." He sounded sententious, even to himself. "In other words, people need to be as comfortable as possible, even in a battleship."

Philip nodded, but his eyes were still wide. "Do you think Trance would let me stay here instead of going back to the med-deck?"

Dylan considered. "If you don’t mind Rommie monitoring you, I don’t know why not." There was no reason to tell the boy that Rommie was monitoring him already, and he was just sneaky enough to take credit for being a good guy. "I’ll tell Trance. I’ll still want her to look in on you."

Philip lit up, and oddly, it made him look at once younger and more like Dylan’s father. "That would be wonderful."

"And if you’re going to stay here, I’d better show you how to operate things." Dylan rose, conscious of a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. A son of his might have looked like this, except for the dark eyes. "For the moment, you just stay there, I need to locate the controls."

"Thank you, si--um, Dylan." 

He smiled at that, got an unselfconscious smile in return. Felt it do something to his stomach again and gloomily conceded that he’d purely lost his mind.

No matter how he felt about the Tregozzis, this boy was one of his now.

He was fucking doomed.

  


* * *

The negotiations on Talon were marginally successful; at least the government was apparently willing to consider signing the Charter, but first wished to communicate with other systems that had already done so.

That was a fair enough request, even if it was frustrating.

"Where to now?" Beka was in the pilot’s seat.

Leaning against the console, Dylan rubbed his forehead. "Bell’s World." 

"Do they even have a planetary government?" Beka asked. "I thought they were still mostly pretty damn unincorporated."

"Evidently, they’ve had some trouble lately with the K’ray, it’s, ah, stimulated a desire for a unified front." He smiled grimly. "So, we’ll talk. That’s all I’ve promised them."

"Are you in a hurry?" Beka was punching up charts. "Or can we take the scenic route?"

Amused, he considered. "I don’t suppose making them wait a bit would hurt. What did you have in mind and why do I think I hear little gears turning in your head?"

"Now, now, I’m not always a mercenary bitch." Beka grinned. "The fast route is a little tricky, that’s all. See, there’s a quasar in the vicinity of the slipstream route."

Dylan studied the viewscreen. "Let’s avoid the quasar, by all means." Dryly. "I must be getting old, I’m avoiding adventure."

Tyr, at the weapons console behind him, snorted. "Getting sensible, more likely."

"Thank you for that," Dylan told him dryly. "Let’s see the other route."

Beka brought it up on the screen. "A little tame, but hey, it’s quiet."

"We can always use a little quiet," Trance put in cheerfully. 

"Mmmm." Dylan considered, saw nothing wrong with the route except for a long, dark space between systems. "When we hit that canyon there, Beka, I want us alert."

"Always." Beka smiled. "Back in the bad old days, that was a hangout for pirates. Lurk there on the major shipping lane and pounce on the unsuspecting. Or so my father always told me."

"The bad old days?" Rationally, he knew that right after the fall, things would have been much, much worse than they were now. "How old?"

"About two hundred years ago." Beka flashed him another grin. "Ancient history."

"And thank _you_ for that," he told her. "I’m going offshift now to make sure my advanced age doesn’t jeopardize the mission."

Beka’s laughter followed him as he left command deck.

He went down to the machine shop, intending to chivvy Harper into going offshift as well, even if it was just a bit early. He could always use the excuse that Philip shouldn’t be pushing too hard, even if the boy was desperate to prove himself.

It wasn’t entirely an excuse, either.

Thus justified, he opened the door. Harper and Philip were peering at Harper’s comp screen, heads together while Harper punched keys. Philip startled when the door opened, turned and saw him. 

"Hey," Harper said without looking up. "What’s up?"

"Quitting time." Dylan looked at the two of them and was suddenly conscious of... something he didn’t want to examine very closely, something insane and idiotic that made his stomach twist. "Trance’s instructions, remember."

"What time is it--jeez, I guess. Kid, get outta here, go get something to eat." Harper was amused. "The Purple She Who Must Be Obeyed will have my hide."

Philip nodded happily. "But do you really think that might work?"

"We’ll have to see. Looks good in theory, though." Harper patted Philip’s shoulder. "We’ll brainstorm more tomorrow."

Dylan arched an eyebrow in question. "Dare I ask?"

"Just a little oomph on the scrubbers." There was a gleam in Harper’s eyes. "The kid got your brains _and_ looks."

Philip flushed, but laughed. "I could wish."

"Don’t sell yourself short, you’re better looking," Dylan said, amused in spite of himself. "And let’s hope you did better in the brains department than I did."

"Get real," Harper scoffed. "Only difference is he’s younger."

By approximately 320 years. "Much," Dylan agreed. "I’ll go and get Lea." It would give him a chance to regain his sanity and deal with conflicting emotions.

Assuming his sanity was anything that could be recovered at this point.

  


* * *

Dylan was working himself up to a full-scale brood, Harper decided after dinner. The only cure for that was Lea, who had once again managed to get pasta sauce in her hair, and then--once Lea was in bed--lots of Harperloving care. Lifting her from her chair, he held her at arm’s length toward Dylan. "Here, your turn."

Dylan’s expression was startled. "What? Oh."

"I need a bath?" Lea was giggling.

"You need several baths," Harper advised and continued to hold her out.

Dylan rose and took her, holding her away from his shirt. "At least," he agreed and headed toward Lea’s quarters.

Did he know his Dylan or did he know his Dylan, Harper thought, a few minutes later, when he could hear them both laughing. He did the post-meal cleanup before sauntering in after them, but Lea had evidently done a deal, Dylan was toweling her off.

"Did she talk you into anything?" he asked narrowly.

"Just a story." Dylan dropped the towel, held up Lea’s sleeper. "She’s growing too fast, we need to see about getting her some new clothes."

"Stop growing," Harper told her, with mock-severity.

Lea giggled. "I can’t! I can’t stop eating good stuff." 

"Rocks," Dylan told her gravely, "I think you’ve been eating rocks. You’re getting very heavy for an old man."

"You not an old man." Lea put her arms into the sleeper’s sleeves, bounced into Dylan’s arms and hugged his neck. "You my Dylan."

Definitely working up to a full-scale brood, Harper thought and sighed inwardly at Dylan’s expression. "He’s only old by the calendar," he told Lea. "It makes him worry too much."

Quick glance upward, faint smile. "Is that what does it?" Dylan fastened the sleeper, kissed Lea’s forehead. "There. All set for the night."

"Story!" Lea beamed at him.

"I’ll make a deal with you, munchkin," Harper said, "You read your own story tonight, I’ll read you two tomorrow."

Pouty look. "Dylan reads better stories."

"Okay, I’ll let Dylan read two tomorrow." Harper ignored Dylan’s arched eyebrow and hunkered down. "And I’ll play a game of Shazzi with you before bed."

Lea considered that, looked at Dylan. "Two?"

Dylan chuckled. "Two."

She put a finger in her mouth, considered.

"Don’t milk it," Harper advised.

"Okay," she agreed. "And Shazzi."

"Deal." Harper held out a hand, and they shook. "Now, come on and we’ll tuck you up."

She scampered, for which he was grateful.

Dylan gave him an odd look and picked up the towel. "What’s going on?"

"Nothing." His best innocent look before he followed Lea out. He definitely knew Dylan. Now he just had to figure out what was triggering this episode and maybe, with some luck, derail it.

Back in their quarters, Dylan seemed distracted. Time for action. Harper pounced, fairly tackling Dylan to the bed, got at least a chuckle. "What’s going on?" Dylan asked.

Harper leaned up on one elbow. "You tell me. What’s on your mind?"

Dylan looked at the ceiling. Sighed. "If... if you decided this--" Vague gesture around the room. "If you decided this wasn’t working for you, you’d tell me, right?"

Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t that. Harper sat up, frowned down at Dylan. "No, of course not, I’d suffer in silence. What the hell do you think?"

A faintly relieved look. "Well, I knew that, I just--I guess I just needed to hear it."

"Why the hell would you even be thinking about it?" Harper looked more closely at Dylan. "Do I act like it’s not working?"

Dylan rubbed his chin, pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, I suppose not."

"You suppose?" He heard his own voice rise, damped it down. "You’re not sure."

Dylan put his hand over his eyes. "Forget that I said anything, please."

"What the _hell_ is going on in your head?" He couldn’t decide if he was upset or angry or both. "What’s going on, Dylan?"

"I’m losing my mind." Dylan sighed, but didn’t uncover his eyes.

Harper took in a breath, counted to ten. Thought suddenly of Beka’s badly judged teasing and felt his stomach roll. "That might be true, but why?" Beka wouldn’t have teased Dylan, she’d all but promised. 

"Isn’t it enough that I’m embarrassed beyond belief?" Slightly plaintive tone. "Do you really need to know?"

Slightly mollified, Harper edged closer, put his hand under Dylan’s shirt and rubbed small circles. "Yeah, I think I do."

Dylan sighed. Put his hand down. "Look, I realize that it’s not sane, can’t we just leave it at that?"

Harper blinked at him and his stomach did another roll. "Just tell me that this hasn’t got anything to do with the kid."

Another sigh. "Not really. I mean, it tweaked some buttons, but I think what’s really getting me is a midlife crisis."

Harper’s ears came to a point. "What tweaked what buttons?"

Dylan managed somehow to shrug lying down.

Okay, it did have to do with Philip, but at least Dylan knew that was whacked. "Okay," he said evenly, "but tell me that in your sane moments you don’t really think that A) I’d take advantage of a mixed-up kid and B) that I’d do that after we both pretty much agreed to that exclusivity thing."

"I don’t. On both counts." Regretful tone. 

"Then I forgive you." He said it seriously. "Because I could really, really get pissed off if you really thought I was that much of a weasel."

That got a smile, and Dylan reached up to touch his face. "In no way at all can you be compared to a weasel. Whatever that is."

"It’s bad, trust me." He narrowed his eyes. "So this was like a temporary attack?"

"I devoutly hope so." Dylan’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I told you, I’m unsettled."

"Well, dammit, settle." He stretched out beside Dylan again. "I’m running out of creative ways to jump you."

Suddenly, Dylan cracked up. "That’ll be the day."

"Of course," Harper said generously, "I still have a trick or two up my sleeve. All that time thinking about good sex and not getting any."

Dylan eyed him. "I’m at your disposal."

"And nobody else’s," Harper growled.

Dylan grinned. "I’m not _that_ insane."

Harper pounced.

But it bothered him later, after Dylan was dozing. Bothered him a lot. "Hey," he finally said and shook at Dylan’s shoulder. "Wake up."

Dylan blinked drowsily at him. "I’m ‘wake."

"Not hardly. Wake up."

Resigned sound and Dylan rolled to his back, stuffed a pillow under his head. "I’m awake."

Harper considered, straddled Dylan and looked him in the eye. "You gotta know a couple of things. First of all, I kind of think of Philip as your kid. Yeah, yeah, don’t freak out on me, but give me a break. He’s a kid, he looks like you, he’s yours like Lea is yours. Second--this is hard, so don’t interrupt me, dammit--I never did believe in forever after." It _was_ hard to say. He was so damn scared of saying it, so damn scared of jinxing things. So damn scared the universe was going to notice that he was happy and fuck him over big time. "I still can’t tell if I do or not. What I do know, you asshole, is that I love you, I love this, and even when you make me fucking crazy, I don’t have any interest in ditching you. Thumping you on the head with a blunt object, yeah, but not in ditching you." He poked Dylan in the chest, not gently. "So get both those things through your head."

Dylan didn’t appear to be mad; Dylan looked... goofily softhearted and pleased.

So he leaned forward and kissed him hard. "We better not have to have this talk again." Severely.

"I think you’re safe." One corner of Dylan’s mouth lifted. "Now can I go back to sleep?"

Harper narrowed his eyes, surveyed what he could see of Dylan, which was still quite a bit. "I don’t know. I may have plans for you."

"Optimist." Dylan grinned.

Harper only smirked. "I’m good with my hands."

Dylan chuckled. "And how."

What the hell, he didn’t have any other plans. Just miles and miles of Dylan, and even if it would take a while....

  


* * *

Philip proved to be interested, if somewhat baffled, by basketball. He was, Harper reflected, watching Dylan coach Philip on how to shoot for the hoop, going to be nearly as tall as Dylan once he reached his full growth. At the moment, he’d reached the stage where he’d grown, but wasn’t used to the length of arms and legs, and while there was something amusing in that, there was also something sort of sad; mostly, Harper thought, because the kid would never had had the chance to learn how to handle it if his family had gotten their way.

Bastards.

Dylan glanced his way and Harper grinned, wiped his forehead again. Whatever bout of craziness had afflicted Dylan, it was gone. For well and good, he thought. Maybe waiting for the other shoe to drop was stupid, if Dylan was still suffering these moments of insecurity....

Weird to think of Captain Terrific as ever having any of those moments. Well, not weird, exactly, more like reassuringly normal. At least for Harper. What was weird was being the one to offer reassurances; things just kept getting stranger and stranger.

Dylan stepped back to let Philip try again; this time, the ball went in and Harper got up, whistled approval. 

Philip grinned, Dylan grinned and that cracked him up, it did. Dylan didn’t see it, Philip didn’t see it, but definitely, definitely, no matter how many generations were in between, Philip was Dylan’s.

Right down to the innate decency that so many of the Tregozzi seemed to have missed. 

Philip caught the ball on the rebound and tossed it back to Dylan, who dribbled and eyed Harper speculatively.

"I’m resting," Harper told him. "Don’t even look like that."

"You have to watch out for this guy," Dylan told Philip. "I swear, he’s using anti-grav sometimes."

Harper grinned. "Nah, just a natural talent. Gotta keep up with you."

Dylan tossed the ball back to Philip. "Give it another try, and then we’ll go round again. Even if Harper’s slacking off."

Philip laughed, took the ball and did a pretty good job of dribbling; catching the spirit, Dylan moved with him, laughing a little, but not cutting the kid much slack. Harper approved of that; the kid needed to feel like he was doing things on his own, he’d noticed that already.

He hadn’t been as sick as Lea, so he was recovering faster, even if this was bound to wipe him out. Half-shifts, Dylan had decreed, when Philip’s impatience and need had gotten too great, and Trance had grudgingly agreed. Half-shifts, and the kid was sharp, he was learning and shyly offering ideas already, taking some of the burden of normal maintenance off Harper’s shoulders.

Leaning back against the bulkhead, Harper picked up his bottle of water, took a swallow and admired Dylan’s ass and legs. Grinned again when Dylan glanced back and caught him at it.

Philip sank another basket and whooped with delight. Dylan laughed outright, high-fived the kid, who had picked that up quickly from Harper.

It was also weird knowing that even with a family, even with enough to eat and few immediate dangers, a kid could have as shitty a childhood as somebody stuck on Earth with Magog and Nietzscheans. Even factoring that bastard Bannon into the mix--at least he hadn’t grown up knowing that one day his family was going to decide he was a burden and put him down like an animal. Death had always been a possibility, death from starvation or from Bannon’s uncertain temper or... a dozen other ways. But he’d always known how to survive, always found a way; Philip had been programmed to work hard for the time he had and then lie down meekly for the lethal injection.

Bastards.

Suddenly, Dylan was standing in front of him. "Now who’s brooding?" Lightly, but with a warmth beneath that told him Dylan could see through him. Heh. Not that he minded, not at this point. 

"Guilty as charged," he said smartly and got to his feet. "Since I won’t let you do it, somebody has to. Looking good, Philip."

Philip grinned, a little breathless, ducked his head to wipe his face on the hem of his shirt. Harper tossed him a bottle of water. "Drink it all," he advised.

Another grin. "Yessir."

Harper flipped him off. 

Dylan laughed, shook his head. "And that’s how Lea learns these things."

"He’s seventeen, he’s already been exposed," Harper protested. "Right, Philip?"

Philip took a long drink, grinned again. "Only in Chari."

"I rest my case," Dylan said mildly. "Hit the showers, get something to eat, and then take it easy for a while. If you have to do something, study those manuals Harper gave you."

Philip laughed, shook his head. "I’m fine, honestly."

"That was your captain speaking," Harper said, his tone deliberately droll. "Don’t mess with the captain, Lea can tell you."

Dylan only smiled. 

Philip nodded, suddenly uncertain, but Dylan saw it, Dylan ruffled the kid’s hair. "I’ll let you spell Trance with Lea, but don’t let the minx run you around."

Philip brightened visibly. "I won’t," he promised and laughed again. "She’s _so_ different now, so energetic and happy. I don’t mind when she bosses."

"You’re too easy on her," Harper told him, pleased. "We still have to keep her in line."

"I will." But Philip’s eyes glinted. "You don’t know what she was like before, this is... amazing."

Harper exchanged a look with Dylan. There wasn’t anything he wanted to say to that; his imagination provided enough unpleasant details, but there wasn’t any point to saying that to Philip.

Kid worried enough about pleasing.

Once Philip had gone, Dylan looked at Harper again. "What were you thinking about?" Gently.

Harper grimaced. "Just thinking about the kid. What it must have been like for him. You can see it, Dylan, you can see the way they treated him the way he acts around us. I thought Lea had it bad, but at least she had Philip."

Dylan’s arm went around him. "Yeah, I know. I think about it, too." Somberly.

So Harper poked him in the ribs. "Hey, cut it out, I’m the one in charge of brooding this week."

A glint appeared in Dylan’s eye. "Oh, that’s right, I forgot. I’m the one devoted to living in the moment."

Delighted, Harper nodded. "Exactly."

"In that case," Dylan slowly smiled. "Rommie, privacy lock on this area, please."

"Understood."

Harper looked up, blinked, and found himself up against the wall being kissed very thoroughly, hands held above his head. Not that he was complaining; he surged up in response, gasped for air when Dylan drew back.

"You pervert, watching my ass when I’m playing basketball." Low purr in his ear. "Do you know what that does to me?"

He could certainly feel what it did to Dylan. "Let go of my hands and I’ll show you what it does to _me_."

"Patience," Dylan growled and nipped at his throat.

"I don’t have any, never did." Harper closed his eyes, tipped his head to let Dylan investigate his throat and ear with that talented, talented mouth. "Have I mentioned just how much I appreciate your mouth? And your tongue? Maybe even your teeth?" Dylan nipped him again, sucked at the base of his throat. "You’re going to have to let go of my hands eventually."

Dylan ignored this, pulled Harper’s arms down as he sank to his knees. He nuzzled Harper’s belly, licked the scant inch of bare skin this revealed and sucked gently on it.

Harper whimpered, twisted his wrists so he could close his fingers around Dylan’s. "Bastard," he complained.

"Complaints, complaints," Dylan muttered and put his mouth over Harper’s cock; his breath was warm, even through the fabric, and Harper shivered. "I wonder if I could pull these down with my teeth." Wicked look upward.

Harper shivered again, and Dylan grinned, took the waistband in his teeth. He pushed away from the wall enough to lend some assistance; the air felt cool against overheated skin, but Dylan’s lips and tongue were hot, hot, hot. "God, god, god." He shifted to widen his stance, shuddered when Dylan’s tongue slipped lower. "You’re killing me, here."

"Very few people actually die from sex," Dylan murmured and swallowed him down. He bucked against the wall, closed his eyes. Dylan’s fingers still gripped his wrists, his still gripped Dylan’s, tightened on them. It didn’t last long enough; there were times he didn’t think it ever did, that almost timeless sense of pleasure, and he was still chanting, petitioning a deity he didn’t really believe in, or maybe he did. Maybe Dylan was proof that if there was one, he wasn’t always a malicious bastard, maybe he had beneficent moments.

Dylan’s mouth was so fucking hot, and then he felt it start, babbled out something that started with please and ended with please and came with a shout, fingers digging into Dylan’s flesh and bone.

Dylan’s mouth gentled down, he swore Dylan was licking him clean and shuddered again when Dylan’s mouth left him, shuddered hard enough to slide down the wall to his knees.

Long slow kiss on his mouth and his hands were free, he slid them inside the back of Dylan’s shorts and kissed back.

Dylan drew back, put his hands under Harper’s shirt. "Have I mentioned lately that you’re sensational?" Huskily.

"Bastard." He said it affectionately. "Your turn. And it better not be too late."

Dylan smirked. "I held back out of fear."

"Good." Sudden surge and they were on the floor, Dylan pinned under him. Well, pinned might be a little too optimistic, but Dylan didn’t struggle, although he did writhe nicely when Harper rubbed against him. 

Nice flat belly, and he traveled slowly down, licking and sucking to his heart’s content until Dylan made a sound of desperate complaint and arched his hips.

So he tugged Dylan’s shorts down, found what he wanted, hot and slippery at the tip, licked and teased until Dylan growled and put a hand into his hair. Laughing a little, he took the hint, closed his mouth over Dylan and worked him, lost himself in the taste and feel and scent of Dylan’s arousal until Dylan arched up and cried out his name. Salt and bitter-sweet astringent, it was Dylan’s taste, and god, god, his cock throbbed even if it was going to be a while before he could really get hard. 

After some shamelessly decadent making out, still about half in and half out of their clothes.

"Sensational," Dylan breathed and nipped his earlobe. "A freaking genius."

He laughed into Dylan’s throat. "Not just at work?"

"Not just at work." Another long kiss and a sigh. "I suppose we’d better hit the shower," Dylan sighed. "I’m due to meet with those bastards again this afternoon."

"Heh. Look at it this way, with all the endorphins, you won’t lose your temper."

Dylan chuckled, hugged him hard and released him. "Or I could be even more irritable, thinking of other things I could be doing."

"Tsk, tsk." Harper smirked. "Focus, focus, Dylan."

"Regrettably, you seem to have that effect on me." A smirk back. "Not that I’m complaining, precisely."

Harper arched an eyebrow. "Good, or I’d have to cut you off."

"Sounds painful." Dylan levered himself to his feet, held out a hand. "And not something I’d like."

"You wouldn’t," Harper said and took the hand, pulled himself up and was swatted ungently on his ass. "Hey!"

"Don’t _even_ think about it. You don’t want me showing up in access tubes or the machine shops and draping myself decoratively over your tools."

"Well, maybe one tool." Cheekily and he darted ahead when Dylan’s arm moved again. "Hah, last one in the shower has to meet with the bastards."

Dylan’s laughter followed him out the door.

  


* * *

Bell’s World had once been a utilitarian mining colony, short on luxuries and long on quarreling stakeholders. After the fall, it had become a refugee world of sorts, and over nearly three centuries, quarreling stakeholders had become quarreling clans, and then quarreling principalities. Now, with the K’ray getting bolder, an uneasy peace was maintained, but every negotiation was fraught with tension, the heads of each principality regarding each other with suspicion.

After another afternoon of bickering, Dylan’s patience frayed. "Until you work out your differences, this is pointless." He rose from the table, eyed all parties. "When you can work in concert, we’ll try this again."

Grudging nods and they gradually filed out of the briefing room, leaving him to rub his forehead and sigh.

Tyr and Beka took care of escorting them off, so he headed toward the officers’ mess. 

"Dylan," Rommie said, "I’m still monitoring Philip, and there’s--it may be only a nightmare, but his vital signs are up, excluding his body temperature."

He could think of a lot of things other than a nightmare that might have that effect. Smiled faintly. "Are you sure he’s asleep?"

"Yes." A faint note of reproof. "He’s definitely asleep."

"I’ll look in on him." Philip must have crashed hard after the basketball lesson, he thought, and nightmares were hardly a surprise. The wonder was that up until now, Philip apparently hadn’t had any memorable enough to raise Rommie’s alarms.

Philip didn’t answer his request to enter, which triggered his own. Quick override and he was in; the bed was empty and the shower was on, so apparently Philip had survived without major trauma. Apparently.

But now that he was here... the rooms were still pristine. Too pristine. The boy needed things of his own. They’d raided clothing for him from various cabins, but dammit, this was like a monk’s cell. Neatness was one thing--barrenness entirely another.

And while he was feeling paternal, he told himself ironically, he ought to educate Philip a little about his other family. Philip, as Tyr had commented dryly, was evidently an atavism, a throwback to the Hunts.

The shower went off again, and Dylan turned as Philip emerged from the bathroom. Stark naked. It was hard to say who was more startled; he turned his back promptly. "I’m sorry, Philip, I, ah, buzzed, but you didn’t answer and I got a little concerned."

"S’all right." Sound of drawers opening and a rustle of fabric, and then, "Um, it’s all right now."

Dylan turned, smiled. Still barefoot, Philip wore a pair of pants that looked suspiciously like High Guard issue, and held a shirt that looked suspiciously like Harper issue. "I really am sorry, I didn’t intend to startle you. I just wanted to see that you were all right. Rommie said your vital signs were, ah, a little ragged. Nightmare?"

Philip paused in the act of putting the singlet over his head. Flushed. "Um, yeah." 

Philip had red marks on his chest and shoulder that matched Lea’s. Bite scars. It shook Dylan a bit; he thought he remembered Sabra saying something about hardsuits. "Chi station?"

Startled look and Philip nodded mutely, pulled the singlet on. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Gently.

Vehement head shake. "No." Just above a whisper and Philip swallowed hard. 

He wasn’t sure what made him move forward, but he put an arm around Philip’s shoulders, guided him back to the bed. "You did a very brave thing there."

Philip shuddered. "She was so little. And there were so many of them. And she was screaming."

"She’s fine now," Dylan told him softly and nudged him to sit on the edge of the bed. "Philip--if they knew the two of you had the genetic problem, why did they bother to save you after that?"

"I don’t know, exactly." Philip’s expression was lost. "My mother wouldn’t tell me, but I heard some of the seniors talking. I think she signed away her shares, or some of them. The spiders.... Lea almost died, she was so little, and I was sick for a while." He gave Dylan an unhappy look. "I think it made the other sickness worse. For both of us."

Dylan nodded. He didn’t want to revise his opinion of Sabra, but it was becoming clear that she had fought for both children as long as she could and in any way she knew how. "Shares--everyone has shares?"

"Not exactly. You get one share when you’re born, and then you can earn more, either by investing your share in something we’re trading or by working double shifts." Philip sighed. "When they found out I was sick, they took my share back. And when Lea was born, she not only didn’t get one, but they took Fatima’s away. Maybe my mother can earn hers back now that I’m gone, and Lea is gone." Wan smile.

Sitting down beside him, Dylan sighed. "Maybe." He patted Philip’s shoulder again. "I don’t know what to say about your mother. You already know how I feel about the rest of them. I think I’d almost rather you considered yourself a Hunt." Dryly.

Philip blinked, flushed and ducked his head. "I wouldn’t presume." Muffled voice.

Presume? What the hell was _that_ about. "It’s hardly a presumption. If I’m the founder of Miriam’s clan, so to speak, you _are_ a Hunt."

Philip raised his head, blinked again. "But... your family goes through the father’s line then?"

Dylan opened his mouth. Closed it. Nodded. This was hardly the time to discuss name usage and the differences between patrilineal and matrilineal clans. 

Philip blinked again, smiled shyly. "I would be honored."

The boy just kept catching at him, just as much as Lea did, only--only he wasn’t an infant, he was most of the way to being a man. A good man, and he was still damned if he could figure that out, given the Tregozzi values. Tyr’s bad joke aside, it was something of a miracle. "Why don’t you go back to sleep. Or was that just a nap?"

Philip blushed again. "You were right, the basketball wore me out."

Dylan grinned. "That’s because you were playing hard. Don’t worry, Rommie and Trance say that you’re getting stronger by the day, it won’t be long until you can beat Harper _and_ me, and then work the rest of the day."

Philip grinned, ducked his head. "I hate being so tired." He held his hand out. "But my hands don’t shake any more. So I just keep reminding myself about that." He laughed suddenly. "And look at Lea."

Dylan laughed with him. "Believe me, it was an incredible change. Especially when she didn’t want to sleep." He rolled his eyes and Philip laughed again. He patted the boy’s shoulder. "Get dressed, then, and if you can tolerate watching Lea drop her entire face into her plate, join us for dinner."

Philip looked pleased at that. "Thank you, s--Dylan." He flushed again, grinned crookedly. "I’m trying to remember."

"And doing better every day." Dylan grinned back, rose. "I’ll see you then."

Harper was already in their quarters, debating supper with Lea, who apparently had decided precisely what she wanted for supper and was reluctant to take no for an answer.

"I’m not making pancakes for supper," Harper said firmly.

Lea gave him a mutinous look and ran to Dylan for comfort. "Abba’s mean."

"Not even close," Dylan advised. "You’ll get no sympathy from me on that complaint, minx."

She scowled up at him. "I want pancakes."

"Too bad. But Philip’s going to eat with us." As he expected, she brightened. "So it’s not that bad."

"I asked Rommie to send something over from the officers’ mess," Harper said vaguely. "I’m tired, you’re tired, and the midget is being a pain."

Lea scowled again. "Uh-uh."

"She thought she’d give climbing ladders a try," Harper added, scowling back. "Only she couldn’t figure out how to get down."

Dylan arched an eyebrow at Lea, who had sense enough to look abashed. "I not a midget," she muttered.

"Stay. Off. Ladders." Dylan said it slowly and firmly. "That’s an order." Crestfallen, she put her face in his knees. Smiling, he ruffled the silky curls. "Don’t worry, we still love you."

Harper rolled his eyes and gestured with his little finger.

Dylan grinned at him. "Oh, right. So what are we having?"

"I dunno, I told Rommie to choose something we both liked." 

Leaning down, Dylan picked Lea up, rubbed his nose against hers. "No pouting."

She hugged his neck. "I try to be good." Fretfully.

"And you usually do a good job. But if you fell on your head, we’d be very sad." He smiled, walked over and put his free arm around Harper, pulled Harper in and kissed him thoroughly. "You’re the only reason I didn’t shoot someone this afternoon."

Harper relaxed against him. "Yeah?"

"All those endorphins," Dylan murmured and kissed him again. Harper, as he had noticed before, got a little irritable when his blood sugar was down.

"I live to serve," Harper said smugly, when released.

"I’ll remember that." Dylan took Lea to her chair. "Did you eat anything after breakfast?"

Harper rolled his eyes. "I got busy. Worrier."

Dylan grinned. "So when is the food arriving, Rommie?"

"On its way now, Dylan," Rommie said.

"Good. So you, minx, sit there and I’ll get you something to drink."

"Okay." Meekly.

He ruffled her hair again. 

Dinner was pleasant, Rommie had chosen an eclectic mix of dishes and even Lea was satisfied, although she expressed a preference for the stir-fry. Philip seemed to relax a little more each time he was around Dylan, which was a relief, and by the time they’d finished, it occurred to him that he _did_ have something he could give to Philip, something he could pass on.

After the meal, Philip took Lea into her quarters to play with her--at her insistence.

"She’s going to beat him the first time, but then she’s going to have to work hard," Harper said, watching them from the doorway.

Opening a cabinet, Dylan found what he was looking for, opened it. A book, given to his father by _his_ father, and given to him by his father in his turn. Absurdly sentimental, but also... also a sign of his snaky mind. It was a way of binding the boy to them, he supposed, giving him a sense of belonging and family outside of the Tregozzis. 

Cynical thought, and it wasn’t even his primary aim. Chiding himself silently, he closed the book, caught Harper eyeing him. "What?"

"You’re up to something." Harper’s eyes narrowed.

His face felt hot. "Not really. I just, ah, thought maybe Philip should start identifying with my side of the family."

Harper raised both eyebrows. "Huh?"

"It’s a book of poetry. Very old." Dylan grinned suddenly. "Older than I am."

Crooked grin. "Wow."

"Brat." Dylan joined him at the door, leaned against him. "I think you’re right, she’s going to beat him. Once."

"Uh-huh. You know, I just realized, we have a built-in babysitter." Harper smirked up at him.

"Who unfortunately has to leave Lea’s room by going through ours," Dylan reminded him, amused. "Or did you have another venue in mind?"

"I’ll think about it." Harper bumped up against him in a friendly way. "Maybe for another night."

"Maniac," Dylan murmured. Unable to resist, he nuzzled. "Does he talk to you much about the Falco?"

"Not really." Harper leaned into the nuzzle, sighed happily. "Little things, sometimes. One of his uncles or his cousins was decent to him, I forget the guy’s name. Some of his cousins who left the Falco a while back, he doesn’t know why. I get the feeling that most of the clan follows the party line, he took a lot of flak for being defective. And later, because he and Lea cost the family a lot, after Chi." 

"So I gather." Dylan refused to brood. He had trouble enough dealing with the quarreling representatives from Bell’s World without brooding. "You still think he’s a good kid? You spend more time with him than I do."

"Yup." Firmly, and Harper put an arm around his waist. "Insecure as hell, but he’s a good ‘un."

Dylan smiled. There, that banished any temptation to brood. Now if only the Bell’s World idiots would settle down, he would be a happy man. Well, he was a happy man anyway, but he’d be even happier.

At this point, he wasn’t entirely sure that he _wanted_ these people in the Commonwealth, but the fact was, in three hundred years, Bell’s had become fairly pivotal in this sector of the galaxy. "You need to invent something I can use to electronically muzzle people."

"Already exists, but it’s nasty as hell. Paralyzes the vocal cords." Harper looked up at him questioningly. "That bad today?"

"I don’t know how they stopped fighting long enough to achieve this much unity," Dylan groused. 

Harper made a noncommittal sound. "Losing money has that effect on some people. The damn K’ray...." He shook his head.

"That’s another thing, they’ve got precious little to offer to prove it was the K’ray, not that I necessarily disbelieve them."

"Maybe next time they send a freighter, we should go with them." Harper’s mouth curved. "Earn their gratitude _and_ get the hell away from them."

"That’s actually an attractive idea." Dylan smirked. "Shall we rescue Philip? You give the minx her bath, and I’ll have a talk with him."

Lea chortled in delight. "I win!"

"You did," Philip said, laughing a little. 

"And she doesn’t even cheat," Harper said ruefully. "I’m beginning to think it was a mistake to teach her to play Shazzi. On the other hand, think how good she’d be in a casino."

"What’s a casino?" Lea wanted to know.

"Over my dead body," Dylan said firmly. "A casino is someplace that little girls don’t belong."

Harper advanced on his daughter, scooped her up before she could escape. "Bath, munchkin."

Philip folded the game up, still laughing. Crouching beside him, Dylan felt awkward suddenly. "This was my grandfather’s," he said, "Robert Frost, a Terran poet from the ancient times. The book," he added, "Isn’t quite as old as the poetry. My grandfather gave it to my father when he joined the Imperial staff to remind him of his heritage, and my father gave it to me when I joined the High Guard."

Philip’s expression was awed; he took the book from Dylan as if it were made of glass, opened it.

"It’s part of your heritage, too," Dylan said softly, pleased. "I’d like you to have it, to remind you that you have another family, too."

Abruptly, Philip blinked hard, his eyes overbright. "Oh." A whisper. "Thank you." He touched the pages with reverence. "I don’t--I wish--" He blinked hard again. "I wish you had been my father." A whisper.

It was the emotional equivalent of a nova bomb. Dylan sank back on his heels, throat too tight to speak. What was it about seeing familiar features stamped on another face that had this effect, he wondered distantly. "My father would have liked you," he finally murmured and put a hand out to ruffle Philip’s hair. "He’d have been proud of you. And even if you aren’t my son, we’re still family, Philip." That much was true, he could feel it to the depths of his soul. It might even have been true if Philip weren’t his blood, but....

Water splashed loudly in the bathroom and Lea crowed, which eased them past it. Philip smiled shyly, and Dylan rose, moved and unsettled at the same time.

Family. This was, in a strange way, becoming a family ship. A pride, Dylan thought, amused in spite of himself.

He’d pitched restoring the Commonwealth as an adventure. It had become his life’s aim, and Andromeda his permanent home, the only one he had after three hundred years. 

And now he had a family.

It wasn’t what he’d expected. And looking at Philip stroke the ancient paper, he somehow thought it hadn’t been what Philip expected either.

  


* * *

"It seems to me," Tyr said, after another abortive attempt at negotiations had ended in a conflagration, "that someone is sowing the seeds of discord deliberately."

They were all in the officers’ mess, seated at one of the larger tables. It was, after all, a sort of war council, as things were becoming more and less complex at the same time. "It seems very likely," Dylan agreed dryly. "When I suggested that the Andromeda accompany the next trade convoy, all hell broke loose."

"I wonder why." Beka’s tone was equally dry.

"I don’t." Dylan favored them all with a long look. "Idealism doesn’t make me stupid."

Tyr looked almost amused. "So you think one or more of the council are actually in league with the pirates?"

"If there are pirates." Dylan smiled thinly. "It could simply be their own military forces."

"Now there’s a pleasant thought," Harper put in and looked under the table to check on Lea.

Although what damage he thought Lea could do with Pali and seven pairs of adult feet was beyond Dylan.

"So all this unity is just a fraud," Trance said thoughtfully. "Or are some of them honest, do you think?"

"Statistically, that would seem probable," Dylan agreed.

Trance dimpled at him. "Cynic."

Tyr snorted. "Not even close. What are you going to do if they accept your offer?"

"You’ve seen their level of tech. I think Andromeda is more than a match for anything they can put in the field. I think we’ll just escort the convoy as I suggested. If there _are_ K’ray involved, it can’t do any harm, and if it is an ‘inside job’, that increases the chance that the honest members will be sufficiently pleased to have their dishonest fellows caught...." He shrugged.

"Optimist," Tyr muttered.

"Maybe." He smiled at Philip, whose expression was bewildered. "If they *do* take us up on it, I want all systems in top shape. Harper?"

"We’re in great shape," Harper said cheerfully. "Rarin’ to go. Let me tell you, having an assistant rocks." Philip blushed and ducked his head. 

Dylan smiled, looked at Tyr. "Weapons systems?"

"They’re good. The recent upgrades have been smoothly integrated, thanks to the little professor and his student." Tyr inclined his head briefly toward Harper and Philip. "I’ve done some fine tuning on the targeting programs, and I believe we’re ready to deal with any trouble."

Dylan nodded. "Good. That’s all, people."

Lea popped out from underneath the people. "That’s all, people," she echoed cheerfully. "Can I have some icy now?" 

Even Tyr cracked a smile at that. 

"Why not," Dylan said. "Your manners are a lot better than the councilors’."

"She didn’t say please," Harper said blandly.

"Please," Lea piped, "Please can I have some icy, Dylan?" Winsome look and she climbed into his lap to add strength to her appeal.

Fortunately for her, it worked. "Yes," he agreed.

Harper grinned, rolled his eyes. "Soft touch."

"Only for kids," Dylan growled and winked at Philip, who snickered. "Especially little girls with curly hair."

Lea beamed at him. "I have ‘bots!"

"The very best," Beka said. "Next time we’re someplace where shopping is possible, we’re going to get you some nifty new clothes, too."

"A girl has to look her best," Lea said solemnly. "Beka says."

Dylan took a small hand and examined nails that glittered pale purple. "Ah, that explains this."

Trance giggled. "She wanted purple."

"I want ‘bots to make _me_ purple like Trance," Lea confided, "But Beka said no, that wouldn’t be good."

"Beka," Harper said, "is right. As much as I love the sparkly purple babe, I like your skin the way it is."

"That’s what we told her," Trance said demurely. 

"I want a tail, too," Lea said wistfully. "Then I wouldn’t fall on my head and I could climb the ladders."

Harper got up and headed toward the freezer for the requested "icy." "Sorry, kid, you’re human. No tails."

Lea sighed, resigned, but brightened when Harper returned with her treat. "Okay."

Amused, Dylan handed her over, got up. "I’m going to catch up on some correspondence. If the Council contacts us, Rommie, take a message and tell them we’ll get back to them. Make them wait a little."

"Understood," Rommie’s voice sounded almost as amused as he was. For different reasons.

He looked at Lea, looked at Philip and retrieved another "icy" from the freezer as the others trailed out. "I realize," he told Philip, "that you aren’t a three year old, but I don’t know that anyone has introduced you to the delights of these things."

Philip, whose expression had almost been wistful, blushed and laughed and accepted it. He grinned, glanced at Harper, who looked... embarrassed. Winked at him, and got an answering, fractional nod and a crooked grin.

"Everybody stay out of trouble," he said and left before he could do anything more foolish, like ruffle the boy’s hair.

  


* * *

They were underway in less than twenty-four hours. 

During the first three hours of that period, Dylan fielded twelve different messages from twelve different councilors, all insisting that they very much wanted Andromeda to accompany the convoy, and three who smoothly insisted that it wasn’t necessary. He advised them to vote on it and give him their decision, and returned to his correspondence.

That work was interrupted when Trance returned Lea to have her lunch, at which point he roused himself and noticed that there was a purple something attached to the backside of Lea’s jumpsuit.

Arching an eyebrow at Trance, Dylan murmured, "Her tail, I presume?"

Trance grinned. "She was very disappointed that humans don’t have them. So I told her she could pretend. It’s just fabric with a little flex cable inside to give it body." 

Dylan shook his head. "That child."

"She has a good imagination," Trance said and left them.

Lea climbed into her chair and looked at him expectantly. "I’m hungry."

"Then I have just the thing," he said mildly. Some crackers to tide her over while he got her lunch, a mug of her soy, and then a plate of her latest favorite pasta. He had some, too, just to be companionable, amazed at her appetite. "You must be getting a growth spurt," he told her.

"What’s that?" Bright-eyed look.

"It means you’re getting ready to do a lot of growing." Dylan wiped a bit of sauce off the tip of her nose. "There."

She beamed at him. "I have a tail."

"I noticed."

"It’s not a real tail." She patted his hand. "It’s a pretend tail."

"I wondered about that." He smiled at her, even if she had gotten sauce on the back of his hand. "Humans don’t usually have tails."

She nodded and took another bite. Chewed thoughtfully. "Why not?"

"I don’t know." He sipped at his coffee. She put her fork down and picked up her mug, drank thirstily in imitation.

She put her mug down, yawned hugely and put one fist in her eye. He winced as she got sauce on her eyebrow, leaned forward to wipe it off before she got it in her eye, got her fingers while he was at it. "There, now you won’t get it in your eyes."

Lea appeared to consider that, then pushed her plate away. "I’m all done." Heavy eyelids.

She tended to crash as suddenly and totally as Harper did, he reflected; he wasn’t sure if it was genetic or not, but they both went at the world full tilt. Smiling, he wiped her face and made sure her hands were clean, lifted her out of her chair. "Sleepy baby," he murmured.

"I not a baby." But she put her finger in her mouth and her head on his shoulder. It never failed to make his heart turn over, that trust and dependence. Instead of carrying her to bed, he sat down with her, rubbed her back. Self-indulgence, and he wasn’t sure why, any more than he completely understood why he’d felt compelled to give Philip the damned frozen treat. Lea gradually went limp against him, out like the proverbial light, and after a while, he rose carefully and took her to bed after all.

But he sat there a moment and watched her sleep, finger still in her mouth. Despite his frustrations with the current situation, he could at least tell himself that succeeding would make this universe a better place for Lea, for Philip, for Harper... and everyone else. At first, it had been his duty, an obsession that was probably related to losing everything he knew in the blink of an eye. Now, the obsession had shifted to something more personal, less related to his duty and sense of honor and what was right and wrong.

Something related to the people he cared he about. 

Not an altogether bad thing, really, he supposed.

A slight sound made him turn his head; he smiled as Harper snuck up on Lea’s bed, put an arm over his shoulders. Warm kiss, and no, it couldn’t be an altogether bad thing, wanting to improve things so that no one had to endure what Harper had endured.

Harper tugged and he went, and closed Lea’s door behind them. Once inside, Harper gave him a searching look, smiled and leaned in for another kiss. "Got worried you were brooding."

"Just thinking," he said and ruffled the short hair at Harper’s nape. "She goes and goes and goes, and then drops. Like someone else I know."

Harper grinned. "Yeah, I’m afraid you’ve got that right. We don’t know how to quit until we have to."

Dylan smiled. "Hungry?"

Harper blinked. "Always."

"Not always enough," Dylan said and poked him in the ribs.

"You won’t be satisfied until the only way I can get around is to roll." Harper snickered. 

"That sounds uncomfortable." Dylan poked him again, went to heat up more pasta. "Three out of fifteen don’t think it’s necessary for us to accompany the convoy."

"Them’s the culprits," Harper said and sat down at the table, rested his chin on one hand. "What the hell is the munchkin wearing on her ass?"

"It’s her tail," Dylan told him, laughing. "What do you think it is?"

"A tail." Harper sighed. "You realize, keeping up with her is gonna kill us."

"Or keep us young," Dylan told him and brought the pasta over. Sat down at his own abandoned place and regarded the cold pasta with indifference. His coffee was cold, too, but that was easily fixed. Add a little hot, and he was set, poured Harper a cup.

"Real coffee," Harper purred and drank some. "You’re spoilin’ me."

"I’ll work it out of you."

"Take it out in trade?" Wicked grin.

"That, too," Dylan agreed and grinned back.

"My lucky day." 

"How’s Philip doing today?"

Harper took a bite, nodded. "Doing great. I’ve got him checking boards, doing some maintenance I know he can handle."

Dylan nodded. "Good. His stamina is getting better every day."

"Yeah, but I still have to watch him." Harper sighed, poked at his food. "I really, really hate those bastards."

Dylan nodded again. "I know exactly what you mean." Grimly. 

Harper took another bite, frowned. "Every thing he lets slip, ya know, it’s not like he thinks it was wrong, it’s just details when he’s talking about something else. I’m definitely getting the impression that Miriam is the worst bitch among many. And it’s interesting, there aren’t that many kids on board. Like maybe the way it costs them to pay for what goes wrong with their kids is discouraging some of ‘em from having kids."

"Did he mention how many are on board total?"

"That’s the really weird thing. Only about two hundred, he said, but they’ve got cramped little closets for quarters, and huge fucking cargo bays. And no matter how I figure it, that’s a lot of space left on a ship of that size. I wonder if the seniors are living it up at the expense of the other crew."

"Or if they’re using the rest of it for weapons systems," Dylan said dryly. "I’ll tell you something I haven’t said to anyone, but ever since my conversation with Sabra Tregozzi, I’ve wondered if the Falco might not be involved in piracy."

"Probably." Harper didn’t look at all surprised. "Bad trading times, they need to make up for it."

"Is that normal practice?" Dylan arched an eyebrow.

Harper grimaced. "Think about Gerentex, Dylan. He brought mercs with us to ‘salvage’ Andromeda, and he was willing to kill you to take it. It’s not abnormal practice."

Dylan shook his head. "I shouldn’t be surprised."

"Probably not." Harper finished his pasta with quick neat bites, drank down the last of his coffee. "Don’t take that as permission to brood."

Dylan laughed, taken by surprise. "Did I look like I was?"

"I could feel it hovering." Harper came around the table to kiss him again. "You know, if this Commonwealth thing ever goes under, I’m ruined for a real job."

"We’ll figure out a gainful trade," Dylan told him, pleased. "But it’s not going to go under."

"What else have we got to do?" Sweet smile and then Harper was gone, leaving Dylan to return to his work.

Less than an hour after that, he received a call from Bron, the hapless Council President. "We’ve agreed, Captain. If you’re still willing, we’d like you to accompany the convoy."

"Certainly. If you’ll transmit departure time and convoy specs to my first officer, I believe we can."

Bron nodded, his expression harried. "Be careful, Captain." 

Dylan arched an eyebrow. "I assure you, we will."

Bron nodded, closed the link.

Dylan considered that, smiled grimly. 

Eight hours later, they were underway.

  


* * *

"Three days of total boredom," Tyr announced, his tone dissatisfied. 

Dylan smiled faintly. "Nothing we didn’t expect."

"Nothing is correct." Tyr growled. "I’m going to work out, unless you think you’re in immediate need of my skills."

Dylan arched an eyebrow at him. "No, I think that will be fine. After all, we know how to get you back up here."

Tyr nodded and left.

Shortly after, Beka appeared. "My turn," she said. "Go relax and play with your kids."

Dylan arched an eyebrow, but couldn’t help laughing. "My kids?"

"I wasn’t including Harper." Beka grinned. "He’s grown up now. And to think, I remember when he was just a juvenile delinquent."

"You sound as old as me when you talk like that." He smirked at her outraged expression. "Okay, maybe only half as old as me."

"Just for that, I’m throwing you off your own bridge."

"Mea culpa," he told her, but got up anyway. "You know where I’ll be if you need me."

"Playing with your kids." Wicked grin.

He rolled his eyes. 

A stop at the officers’ mess for a bite--not for him, but for Harper and Philip, and he started toward the machine shop. About halfway there, he heard what he swore was a sob; the sobbing grew louder and worse, and it was Lea. Nearly running, he rounded the corner and nearly collided with a distraught Philip holding an even more distraught Lea.

No, Philip was distraught, Lea was downright hysterical. Dropping the packaged sandwiches, Dylan finally managed to get a coherent story from Philip, who was obviously terrified, but doing his best to stay calm for Lea’s sake.

He took Lea from Philip. "Lea, no bitey things are on this ship, I promise you, none. Rommie, can you help here?"

Rommie’s hologram image appeared instantly. "Lea, I would know if there were any of the... bitey things on board. I would know if they even tried to get on board, and there are ways for me to kill the bitey things before they got close to anyone." Tone pitched to soothe. "There are no bitey things on board this ship, Lea."

"But Two said," she wailed and buried her face in Dylan’s neck. 

Tyr. "Lea," he said, keeping his voice gentle with an effort, "What did Tyr say?"

She sobbed heartbrokenly into his neck. It took a while to get an answer, but piecing it together, Dylan thought he understood. Tyr had been trying to get her to run her safety drill, had told her that there were bad things on board and she must go and go fast. 

He was going to reach down Tyr’s throat and rip out his heart. "No," he said firmly, "No, there are no bitey things on board."

Philip was still pale and shaky. It increased Dylan’s fury. "No," he said to Philip directly. "Those things will never get on board." He put one arm around Philip’s shoulders, hugged him a little. "I promise you." 

Philip was trembling very slightly. "Why did he tell her such a thing?" Anger coming through now. "She was so frightened."

Anger was better than terror.

"Bad Two," Lea said tearfully and put her finger in her mouth. Her other hand came up and she began frantically twirling a lock of hair, something Dylan hadn’t seen before.

"Bad Tyr indeed," he said darkly. "I think I’m going to have to have a word with Tyr. Philip, would you mind very much staying with Lea in her quarters while I do that?" 

"No." Faintly.

He hugged Philip one-armed again. "It’s okay to be scared, Philip. I faced those things once, and I’ll tell you, they scare the hell out of me. Thanks to what happened on my scout ship with them, no High Guard ship built after that lacked defenses against them."

Wide-eyed look and a shudder.

He kept talking, low and soothing tones for them both, and Philip had more color by the time they’d reached Dylan’s door. "Rommie, let Harper know that Philip’s with me, but for god’s sake, don’t tell him why."

"Understood, Dylan. If he asks?"

"Tell him I’m fixing Lea and Philip both something to eat." He just hoped that Harper didn’t show up. In the event that he did... it didn’t bear thinking about. Still cradling Lea on one shoulder, he put something in the ‘wave to heat for both of them. "Baby, listen to me. I’m going to let you stay here with Philip. Remember what Rommie said, and remember, Abba put that shield in your room, too." He finally got her to sit up and look at him. "We wouldn’t ever let those things get on the ship, baby. We wouldn’t let them get you and Philip again, not ever."

She sucked frantically at her finger, and he wiped tears away with his fingertips. "It’s safe here," he murmured. "I promise, baby." She still clung to him when he tried to put her in her chair, making frantic little sounds.

Eating, apparently, wasn’t on the agenda. Sighing, Dylan looked at Philip, who was standing miserably near the door. He held out an arm, put it around Philip again when the boy came to him. "Listen to me, I promise you both, it will _not_ ever happen on Andromeda." 

Philip nodded unhappily. Caught between manhood and boyhood, Dylan thought, and abruptly realized something. He pushed it away, he didn’t have time to deal with it at the moment; hugged Philip harder. "Nobody and nothing is going to get to either of you." Roughly. "I won’t let it. Harper won’t let it."

Philip made a choked sound, and Dylan hugged him harder. They stood like that for several minutes, and he wouldn’t let himself think about Tyr, couldn’t let himself.

Lea calmed gradually, growing almost sleepy. Philip, still held close, reached out and rubbed her back.

"Better?" Dylan asked softly. 

Philip nodded, flushed. "I’m sorry."

"Don’t be. I had nightmares for years." He rubbed his cheek against Lea’s hair. "Sleepy baby?"

Lea shook her head, still sucking on her finger. 

"How about some pasta, then?" Very softly. Lea finally nodded against his shoulder. "Think you could eat something?" he asked Philip.

"I can try," Philip said and managed a wan smile. "I might be able to get her to eat, too."

"Good." He smiled at Philip as reassuringly as he could manage when what he wanted to do was find Tyr and find him _now_. "Sit. Lea, do you want to sit with Philip?"

Another nod.

This time, she let him put her in Philip’s lap. Two plates of pasta, two cups of soy, and he crouched beside the chair. "You two be all right while I go and have my talk with Tyr?"

Lea took her finger out of her mouth. "Bad Two." Tearfully.

"Bad Tyr," he agreed grimly. "Very bad Tyr."

Philip’s expression was somber. Dylan stood up, put a hand on one small shoulder and one larger shoulder. "I know you were both scared," he said softly. "But you have to believe me."

"I believe you," Philip told him gravely. "And I think Lea does, too." He put his arm around Lea’s middle, hugged her. "I believe him, Lea."

Lea gave Dylan a long, eerily adult look. "Two was bad to say bitey things are here."

"Yes, he was very bad." Dylan didn’t try to hide his grimness. "And I’m going to take care of that, baby, believe me." He touched her hair. "Right now. Try and eat something, okay? I’ll be back soon."

She nodded, as somber as Philip.

It didn’t take him long to find Tyr, who was quizzing Rommie about Lea’s whereabouts with evident puzzlement. Rommie, bless her, was evading masterfully, and from the tone of Tyr’s voice, he knew it, but didn’t understand why.

"Come with me," he told Tyr grimly. "I’ve got something to show you."

Tyr gave him a baffled look. "Do you know where the little one is?"

"I do." His hands clenched into fists. "I’m going to show you precisely what you did to that child."

Tyr’s bafflement increased. "I sent her on a safety--"

"You scared her badly, Tyr. And I’m so close to throwing you out an airlock, you’d better just keep your mouth shut and listen to me." 

Tyr eyed him. Shut his mouth.

The nearest viewscreen was just around the corner. "Rommie, I want a playback of Lea and Philip in the corridor."

Tyr’s expression was confused. "I don’t understand."

Clearly. "Did you tell Lea that there were bad things on the ship?"

Taken aback, Tyr studied him. "I suppose in effect, I did. I was suggesting a hypothetical situation, Dylan, she must be prepared in the event--"

"Shut up," he said tightly. To his mild surprise, Tyr did. "Rommie, do you have the archival records from the Archimedes?"

"Yes, Dylan. Coming up."

He waited grimly, bracing himself mentally. Even after he’d understood what had happened to Lea, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to watch these. He’d lived them once, watching them wasn’t anything he’d ever wanted to do. But, by god, he was going to do it now. The images flickered on the viewscreen, but the ones in his brain were steady, he remembered....

"I don’t understand," Tyr said, when the images faded. 

"Those are bad things to Lea. Those are the things that nearly killed her." He watched Tyr’s face, saw appalled comprehension. "You frightened her badly, Tyr. Very badly. We’d just gotten her past that terror, we’d gotten her to believe that she was safe from that here. And she is--because of what happened to the Archimedes, the Andromeda has certain safeguards. I was one of three survivors out of a scoutship crew of fifteen, so I know why Lea is terrified."

"I did _not_ tell her those things were on board," Tyr said heatedly.

"I don’t know what you said to her, but I intend to find out. For the moment, I accept your explanation, but if you ever show such bad judgement again, you can find yourself another place to be. Via an escape pod." Grimly. "That’s not as the captain of this ship, by the way. That’s as Dylan Hunt. And if, when Harper finds out, he comes after you, I give you warning, you had better show some sense and discretion then."

Tyr’s face went expressionless. "I see."

"You had better see. You, of all people, should understand me."

Another shift in expression, and was there something faintly respectful in Tyr’s expression? He wasn’t sure until Tyr spoke again.

"You’re defending your family."

Dylan smiled thinly. "Precisely."

Tyr inclined his head. "I assure you, it won’t happen again. I’ll take greater care--" Sudden grimace. "It’s easy to forget that she’s still very young, because of her intelligence."

Almost, almost he could forgive Tyr for that overestimation, but all he had to do was see two frightened faces in his mind’s eye. "Yes. No more mistakes, if you please."

Tyr nodded, still faintly respectful.

He offered another humorless smile and turned toward the machine shop.

Harper heard him out calmly. Far more calmly than he expected. "Shithead." Harper’s tone was mild, and it alarmed Dylan. "What a total shithead."

Dylan waited.

Harper took his goggles off. "Don’t worry, I’m not going to freak out and try to kill him. For one thing, he’s better at that than I am." Wry smile. "I’m just going to thank him."

"What?" He felt like he’d stepped into a parallel universe. "You’re going to what?"

Grim smile. "I’m going to thank him. I was worried--Tyr’s not so bad for a Nietzschean. And you know Lea, she loves everybody. Now she’s learned. I wish she hadn’t, don’t get me wrong. But now she’s going to be warier of him, and that’s not really a bad thing."

Dylan felt faintly sick. What a universe, he thought bitterly. "I see."

Harper shrugged. Took his toolbelt off and laid it on the worktable. "I know you don’t like it. But if it keeps her safer, maybe it’s better."

Only the sadness he heard underlying the words made him feel at all better. Dylan sighed, rubbed his chin. "You coming back with me?"

"Of course." Harper managed a rueful smile. "I hope you know, we’re not gonna get much sleep tonight."

"Probably not." They fell into step together, walked back in near silence; he put his arm around Harper, got Harper’s arm around him. "She was doing better when I left them. And by the way, how old do you think Philip really is?"

Harper grinned up at him. "Finally catching on?"

He eyed Harper. "You knew?"

Harper laughed. "I don’t _know_ anything. But I kinda wondered. Hell, I had more beard than that at going on eighteen. So I started watching him closer, and if he’s almost eighteen, I’ll eat _your_ boots for dinner."

"God," Dylan said and shook his head. "I must be getting stupid in my old age."

Harper squeezed lightly. "Shell-shocked, that’s all." Quick, sweet smile. "Unsettled."

"Unsettled," he agreed, sighing. "Maybe that means I’m getting a little more settled."

"You better. You’re stuck with us." 

Antic glint in blue eyes and he pushed Harper against the bulkhead, kissed him hard. "Can’t think of anyone else I’d rather be stuck with," he said. "And that includes the kids."

Harper grinned. "It’s a package deal these days."

"Not that I’m complaining. Let’s go finish reassuring ‘em."

Harper smiled. "Damn right. No more bad bitey things. Ever."

He just hoped the "kids" would believe them.

  


* * *

As Harper had predicted, it was a bad night, but the next night was normal. Mostly. Rommie’s reassurances helped back up their own, and even if Lea was a bit more clingy than usual, it was to be expected.

Dylan still hadn’t decided on how to broach the issue of Philip’s age. The boy was still very insecure about his position aboard, although each day seemed to lessen that, and the last thing he wanted to do was throw Philip into a panic. 

He had to do it diplomatically. He had to do it carefully.

He was still musing on that two days later, as they neared Karna Prime system, where the convoy would unload its cargo. Leaving Beka in the pilot’s seat, he went to talk to Philip, who was working alone in the machine shop, thanks to Harper’s connivance.

"Hi," he said and obviously startled Philip, who jumped up and whacked the back of his head on the table. "God, I’m sorry, Philip."

Weak laughter. "No, I was just... concentrating." Philip rubbed the back of his head and grinned. "I’m all right."

"Good, I’d feel terrible if I gave you a concussion." Dylan crouched, grinned. "Take a break for a minute, I’d like to talk to you about something."

Philip nodded, but his expression shifted to mild apprehension.

"Take it easy," Dylan said gently. "You’re not in trouble."

Flushing, Philip nodded again, sat back on his heels, obviously still nervous.

Reaching out, Dylan touched the boy’s cheek. "Philip, for god’s sake, relax. I just--I’d just like to find out how old you are."

Philip went white, then went pink. Ducked his head. "I’m almost sixteen." Muffled voice.

Dylan tipped Philip’s chin up. "How almost?" Lightly.

Shamefaced expression. "About six standard months."

"You’re going to be as tall as I am," Dylan said, still lightly. "You’re still getting your growth."

"I’m s-sorry." Philip wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. "I thought...."

"You thought if you were older, we’d give you a berth and if we knew how young you were, we wouldn’t." Gently. "That’s not going to happen, Philip. I understand why you thought that, but that’s not how I operate." He tilted his head, caught Philip’s eye. "You have a place here. You don’t have to be someone or something you aren’t."

Brief, heartbreaking glance. Philip nodded mutely.

Dylan managed to smile. "You said you believed me about those things. Will you believe me about this?"

"Yes." A whisper. "I’m sorry--"

"It’s okay, don’t." He touched the boy’s cheek again. "I understand why."

The boy’s chin wobbled; shifting, Dylan sighed and just hugged him, patted him. Philip drew back first, mortally embarrassed, but Dylan rose. "Come on, I’ll get you--no, I won’t get you a Sparky, but I think one of those frozen things might be fun."

Overbright eyes, but Philip laughed shakily. "Harper says you hide his all the time."

"Only when I think he needs to slow down." Dylan winked--

\--and the ship rocked as the alert sirens went off, there was an explosion too close, and air whistled past his ears as the concussion knocked him off his feet. He grabbed a handhold as he slid, looked for Philip.

The worktable had fallen on Philip’s legs, possibly keeping him from being sucked toward the hull breach; Dylan stretched, grabbed the boy’s hand and yanked hard, harder and Philip’s legs came free. Philip was limp, no damn help at all, and Dylan cursed, dragged the deadweight and struggled to keep his grip on the handhold and move toward the door.

Which, of course, had sealed. 

He’d have to override, hope to god he could keep hold of Philip or that Philip had regained consciousness, that was all there was to it, he wasn’t going to die in a goddamn hull breach after everything he’d lived through, and he was damned well not going to let a not quite sixteen-year-old boy die either.

The door unsealed as he got closer; Harper, grim expression and tethered to something in the corridor, fed out a second tether cable. Philip had roused to groggy semi-consciousness, was trying manfully to help; a moment of decision and Dylan snapped the tether around both of them. Not the best arrangement, but even if vacuum was tugging at him, he was still functioning. Another meter, and Harper did something with the cable that snapped both of them past the goddamn threshold and onto the floor and the door was sealing... he got his legs out as it closed, rolled over to let his greater weight buffer the effect on Philip and then, thank god and Harper, it was over.

"Rommie, status," he rasped and pushed himself up. "What the hell just happened."

"Minimal damage to us and the Boricum, no casualties."

Beka’s voice overrode Rommie’s. "Ship popped out of slipstream, interesting use of a sensor mask, but we outgun her and she’s on the run, Dylan. Do we go after her?"

"We stay with the convoy." Sensor mask. "Did you get past the sensor mask, do we have any kind of ID?"

"It wasn’t the K’ray." Beka’s voice was grim. "Looks like we did her some damage, Tyr thinks he took out her main weapons. And yeah, we got an ID. You’re not going to like it."

"I don’t like it already," Dylan answered. Harper was there, unsnapping the cable; Dylan spared him a quick hard hug, a grateful smile and turned to examine Philip. Large bump on the forehead, spreading bruise, and Philip was trying to sit up, gasped in pain. "Easy, easy, it’s okay, we’re okay." No bleeding, although the boy’s eyes were red from broken capillaries. He did a quick check, half-afraid he’d dislocated Philip’s shoulder dragging him from under the worktable, but the worst appeared to be Philip’s ankle. 

"Think it’s broken," Harper said and wiped his face on his sleeve. "Medical."

"Medical," Dylan agreed grimly. 

"I’m okay," Philip said shakily.

It was so patently untrue, Dylan almost laughed, but there wasn’t humor in it. "Right. You’ve got the hard Hunt skull, obviously." Every muscle in his body ached. "Rommie, I need an AG floater down here."

"On the way, Dylan."

Philip was still trying to sit up; Dylan helped him, helped him lean back against the bulkhead. 

"Lucky hit," Harper said. "Bastards." Feral expression.

"We’ll get repairs at Karna Prime." Dylan patted Philip’s shoulder gently. "Still with us?"

Pale as chalk, Philip nodded. 

Harper’s hands were shaking. "Quick thinking," Dylan told him.

Harper grimaced. "That was a little closer than I like."

"I told you, I’m not that easy to get rid of." He allowed himself one brief, hard hug. "Thanks."

"Looking out for my own interests is all." But some of Harper’s shaking eased up.

Philip’s ankle was a simple fracture. Once in medical and with the effect of a nerve block, Philip watched with interest and amazement as Trance fused the broken bone; Rommie insisted that Dylan endure a scan to make sure there were no hidden injuries, pronounced him intact, but advised a more thorough examination.

"Later. I’ll be back," he told Trance, and ruffled Philip’s hair. Harper had gone to get Lea, who was alarmed, but evidently not distraught, according to Rev. "Take good care of him, Trance."

Brief smile from Trance. "Absolutely, Dylan."

He headed for command, feeling grim fury.

  


* * *

"See, here’s where it gets interesting. Our sensors read her as the Alrahid." Beka leaned on the rail beside him. "Rommie had just noticed there were _two_ Alrahids when the firing started. The Boricum took the first hit--Tyr was at the weapons station and targeting when she hit us with some sort of missile--that’s what hit the machine shop."

Tyr was grim. "The targeting program worked very well, I took out their missile tubes with the first volley."

"Good." He exchanged a look with Tyr, who nodded back. "Good work."

"So, I jinked to starboard, as you can see, brought the ship around and the mask wavered, here--" Beka looked at him. "And there’s her ID."

Dylan stared at the viewscreen. The Falco. "How interesting."

"I thought you’d think so." Beka smiled grimly. "Pirates."

"No wonder she’s so well armed." There wasn’t any joy in having his suspicions proven. Miriam Tregozzi was... well, to his way of thinking, she wasn’t quite sane, not with children on board, not with her entire family on board. "How much damage did they take?"

"I targeted weapons system and engines," Tyr said. "It’s hard to say for sure, but she was limping when she entered slipstream. She’s not going to go far."

"No indication that the slipstream drive was damaged," Beka said, "Although she’s left a clear track to follow if you change your mind."

"We have a mission to finish." He smiled grimly. Bell’s World. The Alrahid. "Let’s check the registry of the Alrahid, I’d venture to say that’s where this originates."

"No doubt." Tyr folded his arms.

"I think I’ll send a little message to the Council President." Dylan leaned forward, his eyes still on the viewscreen. "With all the relevant data."

"Good idea." Beka looked at him. "Are you all right? Because you look like hell."

Surprised, he nodded. "I’m fine."

"Your eyes look like they’re bleeding," she said and grimaced.

"Broken capillaries," Tyr commented. "You should get that seen to."

"I will." His eyes ached, but his entire body ached. "Stay sharp. Beka, I’ll relieve you in an hour. Short shifts, rest in between, I want us focused and careful."

"The Falco won’t be back," Tyr muttered.

"Somebody else might be. Let’s not get complacent." He nodded at Beka. "An hour."

She nodded back. "Philip’s okay?"

"Broken ankle, already fused. Thump on the head." He sighed. "Probably shaken, but he handled himself as well as anyone could expect, given that he was about half-conscious. I wonder how often it’s happened on the Falco--he’s bouncing back depressingly fast."

"He’s young," Tyr said cautiously. "Reserves of energy."

Dylan made a noncommittal sound. "Good work, both of you."

Beka gave him a long look. "Stay away from hull breaches, Dylan."

He smiled thinly. "Don’t get sentimental."

Tyr snorted, but Beka held his gaze soberly. He patted her shoulder in reassurance as he left for medical again.

"But I’m all right," Philip was protesting as he walked through the door. "It doesn’t even hurt."

"Of course it doesn’t," Harper told him, "she gave you a nerve block. Take the crutches, kid, you need to keep your weight off it for twenty-four hours, just like she said."

"Be good, Pip," Lea advised firmly. "Or Abba will be mad."

"So will Dylan," Dylan said, but took the sting from it with a smile. "I told you, good hard Hunt skull."

Philip smiled tentatively. "I feel fine."

"Good." Trance was giving him a long look. "Yes, ma’am, I’m here to be looked at more thoroughly," Dylan said. Philip blinked at that. "Even the captain has to mind the medical officer, Philip."

Surrendering, Philip took the crutches, stood with them patiently while Harper adjusted them for a better fit. Unsettled, Lea held up her arms, and Dylan lifted her into his lap, sat with his eyes turned up to the ceiling and felt the faint heat as Trance worked carefully to seal the capillaries. His eyes watered and stung, but the ache lessened somewhat.

"Does that hurt?" Lea’s voice was alarmed.

"Not really. Just a little sting." He blinked hard, took the sterile wipe Trance handed him to wipe his eyes.

"Are you cryin’?" More alarmed.

"No, baby, my eyes are just watering." He smiled reassuringly. "I bet Philip’s eyes watered, too."

She put her finger in her mouth, watched him wide-eyed.

"There ya go, kid," Harper said, and stood back. "See how that feels."

Philip took a few experimental steps. "I feel silly." Embarrassed.

"Just for twenty-four hours," Dylan advised. "It won’t heal right otherwise."

"Dam’ right," Lea agreed.

It was harder than hell not to laugh at her. "Minx," he said, "I told you not to say that. Abba told you not to say that."

"But you and Abba say it," she told him reasonably.

Philip was trying not to laugh, and Harper’s expression was long suffering. "We’re bad when we say it," Dylan said gravely.

"Then you has to go to the brig." Satisfied air, bright eyes.

"Bad language doesn’t require a stay in the brig." He lifted her so they were eye to eye. "But I don’t want to hear you using it. And I’m the captain."

Sulky look. "Okay."

Trance made a suspicious smothered sound, and he looked at her sternly.

"Now what?" Harper asked hastily.

"Now we get to Karna Prime, get the repairs and go hunting." Dylan considered Philip. "And right now, I take a cat nap, I’m relieving Beka in an hour."

Harper nodded, accepted Lea when Dylan rose. "Battle ready."

Dylan nodded grimly. "As ready as we can be." 

But the rest of the trip was as uneventful as the first part.

  


* * *

The captain of the Alrahid was nervous and evasive, which Dylan duly noted and passed on. When they arrived at Karna Prime, the cost of repairs went on the Bell’s World tab; it was becoming more and more certain that the so-called piracy was an inside job, as Harper had put it.

"What I don’t get," Beka said thoughtfully, "Is why only the Falco?"

"I’d love to know that," Dylan agreed. "But it seems unlikely that was the case. I wonder if Miriam Tregozzi didn’t get the word we were there until it was too late, or if...."

Rev growled faintly. "Or if she was simply so desperate for the profit she risked it anyway?"

Dylan nodded. "My thoughts exactly. Given the nature of her dealings with Philip and Lea and Sabra, I’m beginning to wonder just how affluent the Tregozzis really are."

"You think maybe they’re doing badly, and that’s one of the reasons?" Beka frowned.

"Or she could simply be a rapacious bitch," Harper said mildly.

Dylan smiled faintly, nodded. "That, too. Whatever her reasons, piracy is piracy." 

"Uh-huh." Beka smiled grimly. "Where are the kids?"

"Somewhere they don’t hear this," Harper muttered. 

"On the obs deck," Dylan said, amused. "I promised them both a visit to the station."

"Good. Trance and I will take Lea shopping while you do something about poor Philip’s clothes."

"What’s wrong with his clothes?" Harper asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Nothing. They’re dull. He’s wearing hand-me-down High Guard stuff, and that’s fine for working, but what about when he needs to show some flash." Beka’s mouth was quivering.

Dylan regarded her suspiciously. "Beka. He’s not even sixteen."

Her eyes widened. "He’s what?"

Harper cracked up. "Losing your touch, boss. I figured you’d have it nailed before we ever figured it out for sure." 

"He’s going to be as big as Dylan," Trance sounded amused. "See, Beka, he can wear Dylan’s clothes."

Dylan opened his mouth, closed it again. "You’re right, we’ll do some shopping," he said hastily. "But only today. Harper, if you wouldn’t mind taking charge of Philip while I meet with the portmaster, I want to see if the Falco’s visited here anytime recently."

Tyr stretched and rose from the table. "Shall I make the rounds, see what I can find out?"

Dylan smiled faintly "Exactly. Beka, if you make any contacts, make damn sure Lea’s with Trance."

"You got it." 

Dylan looked around the table. "People, be careful. I don’t think we’ll run into trouble here, but watch yourselves anyway."

With that, everyone rose, with Tyr leaving alone, Beka and Trance with their heads together--plotting, no doubt, on how to terrorize them by teaching Lea more feminine tricks. He wondered absently if that was a sexist thought, decided it didn’t matter in this context and walked out with Rev and Harper.

The portmaster was immensely helpful, and apparently pleased to be of help to the captain of the Andromeda. He supposed it shouldn’t be a surprise that he and his crew were gaining exposure; it made them bigger targets, but it also eased the way at times like this. 

The Falco, it appeared, had a pattern of appearing shortly after convoy raids. Occasional repairs, some small goods trade, and supplies for the ship, and she was gone again. No suspiciously lucrative trade goods, not in this port, but Dylan was happy to download each of the putative flight plans for each departure.

Leaving the portmaster’s office, he contacted Rommie, located Harper and Philip and met them in the commercial section of the station.

"No luck?" he asked, noting the absence of packages.

"I think you need to have a talk with this kid," Harper said mildly. "First time I ever met anybody who didn’t want to get new clothes."

"No?" Dylan studied Philip. "Why not?"

Philip’s excitement had clearly been damped by something. "I don’t do enough work," he muttered, "I haven’t earned enough for that."

Pride? Or training? "Ah. How do you feel about gifts, then?"

Swift, startled look and Philip blushed. "Um."

Harper grinned. "He’s got you there, Philip."

"Family," Dylan said mildly, "is not quite what the Tregozzis clan has made of it. Harper, lead the way."

Grinning, Harper did. 

An hour later, Philip seemed almost shell-shocked. Harper had been in his element, dickering and haggling, and Dylan had merely looked on, keeping his amusement locked behind a look of mild interest.

It was very wrong of him. But Harper wasn’t doing anything illegal, it was just the sharpest trading he’d seen in a long while. 

They stopped at a kiosk to pick up something to eat, something very like the gyros that Harper favored.

"Is this real hummus?" Harper asked the girl behind the counter. "I mean, real hummus, chickpeas and all that?"

"It’s real hummus," she told him, sounding affronted. "You want some?"

"Yeah, yeah, and give me some of that, too." Harper grinned at Dylan. "You’re going to enjoy this sooooo much."

Philip nodded happily. "This is good food," he told Dylan earnestly. "I know how to make some of this stuff."

Harper regarded him with delight. "No shit? All right!"

"You are not making him cook unless he wants to," Dylan said hastily. "Philip, you saw him haggling, don’t let him overwhelm you."

Philip snickered. "I like cooking sometimes."

"Hey, we’ll work a deal." Harper offered Dylan his most harmless and innocent look.

"I know that face too well," Dylan growled.

The girl shoved the order over the counter at them and took the credit chip, ran it through her reader. It all seemed a little overpriced to Dylan, but Harper nodded without protest, so he assumed his grasp of price was still catching up.

Philip talked cheerfully while they ate, mostly about food, which seemed to have the effect of increasing Harper’s appetite. "Think we could squeak out a little more for some more of that hummus?" he asked Dylan, almost wistfully.

Dylan nodded. "Go ahead. What you don’t inhale, we’ll take back, one of you can eat it later."

"I’ll get it," Philip said happily. "If that’s okay."

Dylan handed him the chip. "And some more tea for me, please."

Philip nodded and went back to the kiosk.

"He’s a good kid," Harper said cheerfully. "And really, he’s not as screwed up as I was at his age."

"Different circumstances," Dylan said softly, although he wondered. Different circumstances, different suffering; it all came down to damage, and if there was one thing that gave him hope for Philip, it was the fact that Harper had not only survived, but had somehow managed to stay human and sane and able to love.

Philip had better chances now, with them. At least he told himself so, conveniently ignoring the fact that the mission held dangers for all of them.

At least it didn’t hold the promise of a lethal injection for a fifteen-year-old boy.

Harper frowned in the direction of the kiosk. "Where the hell did he go?"

Dylan was on his feet in an instant. "Go that way," he growled and headed around the kiosk on the other side. "Rommie, is the Falco in port?"

"No, Dylan, no sign of it. Is there trouble?"

"I don’t know yet." He moved more quickly, heard Harper say, deadly quiet, "Just let go of him and step away."

"Don’t shoot him, h-h-he’s my cousin." Philip’s voice, shaky and scared. "He’s one of the cousins who left the Falco--"

Dylan was around the corner in a heartbeat, saw a man in his thirties, both hands held up harmlessly. "You aren’t on the Falco?" 

"We are not." Dylan slid his forcelance back into his holster. "What the _hell_ were you doing with him?"

The man had the grace to look ashamed. "I thought the Falco was in port."

That made no sense, really, but Philip looked more worried about Harper’s gun than he did about this cousin. "Just step away from him," Dylan said coolly, "and we can discuss this. Philip?" He beckoned, and Philip came. "You’re all right?"

Philip nodded vehemently. "Benaja’s a good man, Dylan." Earnestly. "He wanted to hide me from...." Brief falter, and Philip swallowed. "From my grandmother."

Benaja looked at Philip, and Dylan practically saw the wheels spinning. "You’ve gotten away from the family already." Relieved tone.

Family, Dylan thought and realized with shock that there was someone else who wanted Philip.

The question was, what did Philip want? His stomach knotted up somewhere under his breastbone. "His mother put him in an escape pod rather than give him a lethal injection." 

Benaja looked faintly ill. "Pip." Faintly.

Harper twirled his gun and re-holstered it. "Yeah, he nearly suffocated or starved instead." Snarkily.

That penetrated Benaja’s astonished horror. "If I could have taken him with me when we left, I would have." Angrily.

"Harper!" Distressed, Philip shook his head. "Please, don’t--"

Dylan put a hand on Philip’s shoulder. Was it a little possessive? God, it was, and he was losing his mind. If he were sane, he would have been overjoyed, but instead, that knot in his gut just kept tightening. "Philip--"

"Dylan, Benaja isn’t like my grandmother." Very distressed.

"All right," he said mildly, hating himself and none too fond of Benaja. "Calm down, Philip, no one’s going to hurt him."

Harper’s expression was unconvinced. "Right." 

For a moment, they stood frozen, regarding each other with massive distrust. Dylan squeezed Philip’s shoulder gently, trying to reassure. "Shall we discuss matters?"

Grudging nod from Benaja.

With an ironic gesture toward their table, Dylan inclined his head.

  


* * *

The only amusement to be had was watching Dylan give off touch-me-not vibes every time Benaja Tregozzi leaned in toward Philip. Other than that, Harper felt nothing more than a strong urge to thump Philip on the head and drag him back to the ship.

He didn’t understand why Dylan was bothering to be polite, even if it was the kind of courtesy that Dylan generally reserved for Nietzscheans and crooked traders.

"It’s getting late," he finally said, since Dylan appeared to be unwilling. "We’d better get back."

Dylan looked at him a long moment. "Why don’t you take Philip and go," he suggested mildly. "I’d like to talk with Benaja a bit more."

Ah. It was all he could do to keep his face expressionless. "Sure thing. Philip?"

For a moment, Philip looked... not mutinous, exactly, but as if he would have liked to protest. Dylan put a hand on his shoulder. "It’s all right, Philip, I just want to talk." Softly.

After a heartbeat, Philip nodded, but his expression wasn’t happy. Harper felt his stomach do a lazy roll as the boy looked at his cousin. Philip had seemed happy on the Andromeda, but this... this was someone he had known all his life.

He had to admit that comparatively, they were strangers. It kept him gentle with Philip on the way back to Andromeda. "You like this guy a lot, huh?"

Philip didn’t quite look at him. "He’s a good man." Faintly.

"That’s good," Harper muttered. "At least you had someone there who was."

Philip didn’t answer. In fact, Philip was practically mute once they were back on Andromeda, excused himself to go to his quarters, all joy in his new possessions forgotten.

"What happened?" Beka asked, looking after the kid.

Harper lifted Lea into his arms. "Ran into someone he knew. I--" He hugged Lea too tightly, she squeaked and giggled and tried to escape. "I think he might have wanted to stay there."

Beka gave him a sharp look. "As in family?"

Harper nodded, nuzzled Lea. "So what did you get, munchkin."

Lea preened. "Pretty clothes. I had fun!"

"She did." Beka’s expression softened. "She’s going to be hell on wheels when she’s grown up."

"Oh, thanks a lot." Harper nuzzled again. No one, no one would or could take her, and his stomach rolled again. Dylan had just gotten settled in his mind about Philip; he couldn’t decide if Dylan would surrender Philip to Benaja Tregozzi or not.

He supposed it would depend on what Philip wanted, on what Dylan determined was best for the kid. Which was, he reckoned, the reason Dylan had stayed behind to speak to Benaja alone.

"You think Dylan’ll give him up?" Soft voice.

Harper shrugged. "Depends."

Beka nodded. "Damn. Nothing easy."

"Nope." Harper jiggled Lea again. "You gonna show me your pretties?"

She clapped her hands in delight. "Yes!"

No, it sure as well wasn’t going to be easy no matter which way it went. For anyone.

Once Lea was settled for a nap, he decided to talk to Philip directly. Philip was sitting on the floor in his quarters, knees drawn up, head pillowed on his arms.

Harper’s throat ached. "Hey, kid." Gently and he crouched beside Philip’s huddled figure. "You wanna talk about it?"

Philip didn’t look up. "Why did he stay?" Muffled voice.

"Dylan? He wants to see what kind of man Benaja is, I guess. He’s not just your cousin, he’s one of Dylan’s, too, and so far, kid, your family hasn’t made him real proud."

Philip looked up, blinked hard. "Oh."

"Well," Harper amended, "except for you and Lea."

Philip merely looked more miserable. "Do you think I should stay here with Benaja?"

Direct question. He could deal with that. He thought. "I dunno. I suppose it comes down to a couple of things. What do _you_ want to do? That’s one of them--and then, honestly, what kind of man your cousin is. I mean, I loved my dad, too, but I’m not stupid, he wasn’t a bad guy, but he wasn’t a good guy, either."

Philip blinked at that. Put his head back down. It didn’t seem a good sign.

Harper’s throat ached. "If Dylan decides Benaja isn’t... well, there’s no way he’d let you stay. If he decides he is... and decides you’d rather be there...." He let the words trail off helplessly. "Dylan’s that kind of man, Philip. He’ll let you stay if that’s what you really want, and if he thinks it’s good for you."

"Oh." Very small voice.

"You have to tell him what you really want, Philip. You have to be really clear about it." He was starting to feel a little desperate. "Because otherwise, he’ll try and decide on what he thinks is best."

Philip nodded without raising his head.

It really didn’t seem like a good sign. Hell and hell and hell.

He put a hand on Philip’s shoulder briefly. "Just remember, Philip. Don’t tell him what you think he wants to hear, don’t tell him what you think you oughta do--tell him what you want."

There really wasn’t anything more he could do. He wanted so badly to just tell Philip to forget it, he was staying on board, but second-guessing Dylan could be dangerous. Besides, Dylan would kick his ass for being high-handed.

Fucking Boy Scout.

He ruffled Philip’s hair and left him.

  


* * *

Dylan was bleak when he got back and only by lurking near the lock did Harper manage to waylay him before Dylan went straight to Philip.

"What happened?"

"Nothing happened. Benaja, of course, wants Philip with him. It’s almost refreshing to have a Tregozzi who doesn’t call me the Progenitor with an uppercase P." Wry tone.

"He can’t have him," Harper said promptly. "I hope you told him no."

"I can’t do that." Dylan’s expression grew bleaker. "I have to give Philip the choice."

"The hell!" Outraged, Harper grabbed Dylan’s arm. "You don’t know this guy."

Dylan looked at him wearily. "That’s not important. Philip knows him."

"I can’t believe you’re going to do this. He’s a kid! What the hell are you thinking?"

"He’s fifteen. I’m trying to give him what you didn’t have when you were fifteen, a choice."

It was like a blow to the gut; he had to work to catch his breath, and he was glad of that, because it let him really _see_ Dylan’s expression. "Oh, fuck."

"I’m sorry." Painfully. "I’m sorry, Harper, but I can’t not give him the choice. He’s not a baby. He’s got the right to choose."

He managed to nod. Fucking Boy Scout, but god, he was right, he was right, and Harper hated that. "Okay, you give him the choice, Dylan. But I’m going with you when you do it."

Dylan rubbed the bridge of his nose. "All right." Uninflected. "Let’s go, then."

Philip was still sitting on the floor, reading the book Dylan had given him, eyes reddened.

Dylan crouched in front of him. "I’m sorry you were upset, Philip." Softly. "But I need to talk to you. Your cousin... he wants you to stay here with him and his wife. His sister, Lenya, she’s a freighter pilot these days, so she’ll be here intermittently." He reached out, touched Philip’s hair lightly. "It’s your choice, Philip. You know, I hope, that you’re welcome here, that you have a place here. But they have a place for you, too."

"Do you want me to stay?" Very softly.

Dylan closed his eyes briefly. "Philip--it wouldn’t be right for me to try and influence your choice. I--" Long breath. "I know, comparatively, we’re strangers to you. You’ve known Benaja all your life. I want you to do what’s best for you. I met his wife, she’s a nice woman, and Benaja--I like him, too. If that’s what you want...." Dylan’s voice trailed off into nothing, he rubbed his mouth. 

Harper couldn’t read Philip’s expression. "Philip, you can stay here, you know. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do."

Dylan shot him a warning look.

Philip nodded. Ducked his head to swipe at his eyes. "I think I should stay here."

Tell him no, Harper thought desperately at Dylan, even though he knew, even though he understood Dylan’s reasoning. 

"Is that what you want?" Dylan’s voice was soft. 

Philip nodded unhappily.

Dylan patted his cheek gently. "Okay, then. Let’s get you packed up, and I’ll take you back over." 

Unhappier look and Philip closed the book. "Do you--do you want this back?"

Dylan looked horrified. "Of course not, Philip, it was a gift. I _want_ you to have it. In fact, maybe Harper could help you pack up, I’ve got something else I’d like you to have." Ghost of a smile. "So you don’t forget you’re a Hunt, too."

Philip’s expression was still unreadable. "All right."

Dylan rose, ruffled Philip’s hair. Looked at Harper.

Oh, it hurt, it hurt to see what was in Dylan’s eyes. Especially with that phantom smile. Harper nodded at him. "Sure, I’ll give him a hand." Quietly.

"I’ll be right back," Dylan said quietly and left.

Bleeding inside, and the hell of it was, Harper couldn’t even hate Philip for it. Whatever his instinctive reaction--Philip was trying to find his real home. He’d done that for a long time, until Beka and the Maru.

No matter how much it hurt, he couldn’t blame Philip. But he did harbor an unworthy desire to go back on the station and push Benaja out an airlock.

  


* * *

Benaja was almost embarrassingly delighted to usher Dylan and Philip into his family’s quarters. Dylan kept the same pleasant expression on that he’d used with Philip, went with Philip to the small room that would be his, letting Benaja’s conversation roll past him, nodding at the right moments, and making noncommittal sounds at other times.

Philip was almost mute.

He wished he knew for certain that Philip really wanted this. He had to take it on face value, he couldn’t not. But-- "Do you mind if I have a minute alone with Philip?" he asked Benaja politely.

"No, of course not." Benaja beamed at them. "Supper’s almost ready, Pip."

"He likes to be called Philip," Dylan said, unable to stop himself.

For an instant, Benaja looked taken aback, but then smiled ruefully. "That’s sense, he’s nearly grown." A nod and Benaja stepped out, leaving them alone.

"Well," Dylan said and looked at the narrow bed. "Philip, are you sure?"

Mute look, and Philip nodded, clutching his carryall.

He didn’t know why he insisted on asking again. "All right, then." Didn’t know why he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a station credit chip and a flexie. "I don’t know when we’ll be back at Karna, but we _will_ be back. In the meantime, I want you to have this. I’d like you to stay in touch, Philip, but only if you want to. This will cover any comm charges, any unexpected expenses, at least until we’re here again." It was hard to speak, his throat ached so badly. "If...if you need anything, anything at all, Philip, contact me. If you change your mind, you contact me. Will you promise me?"

Philip nodded mutely again, but his chin wobbled a little. Dylan hesitated, reached for the boy and hugged him gently; Philip wasn’t used to being hugged, he’d learned that already, but this time, Philip almost, almost hugged him back. "Anything, Philip," he murmured, "You contact me. I put the pincode on that flexie, it’s my private code, so Rommie will route it directly to me. I put the general code, too, so you can write to any of us, anytime."

Philip nodded against his shoulder.

He had to let go. Had to. "Okay." Trying for brisk, and managing only evenness. "Remember, you promised. And Philip--remember that you’re a Hunt, too."

"I will." A whisper.

He did let go then, managed a smile. How the _hell_ had this kid gotten so wound around his heart, around his life? How the _hell_ was he going to walk away?

With a smile, that’s how. He wasn’t going to load guilt on Philip’s shoulders, the boy had too many other painful burdens from the past. He touched Philip’s face, patted his cheek and then went, before he could do something rash and irrational and selfishly unfair.

The door slid shut behind him. Benaja stood talking quietly to his wife.

"If you don’t take good care of him," Dylan said hoarsely. "I swear to you, the universe will not be large enough for both of us."

Long, level look. "I will. I told you, if I could have gotten him away when I left, I would have."

"I mean it." Dylan took a step forward. "If you _ever_ make him feel like he’s not worth anything more than what he can do for you--"

"I won’t." Level again.

He was being an ass. So he nodded, nodded at Meriam, Benaja’s wife, and left, feeling like he’d just eviscerated himself.

  


* * *

Harper found him on the obs deck. Sat down next to him. "We’re underway." Quietly.

"I know." He smiled faintly. "How’s the minx?"

"She’s asleep." Harper patted his toolbelt. "Got my comm."

Dylan nodded, went back to considering the universe and the rapidly shrinking station.

Harper bumped up against him. "Dylan, it’s late. Come to bed."

"Not yet." Brief sidelong smile. "I know you want to make me feel better, but it’s not going to happen. Not yet. It’s just going to take some time."

Harper’s throat ached. "I know that. But Dylan, what I said--you did the right thing. I hate it, but you did the right thing." He slipped his hand into Dylan’s, laced their fingers together.

"I hate it, too." An almost broken whisper. "God, it hurts. Why does it hurt so much?"

Harper leaned into Dylan. "Because you love him." Shakily. "Like you love Lea."

Dylan made a sound that shouldn’t be called laughter. "That must be it."

Oh, it hurt, it hurt to see Dylan in pain, it dimmed his own sense of loss. "Please come to bed," he said humbly.

Dylan sighed. "All right." Squeezed his hand. Lifted it and kissed the knuckles. "I’m sorry."

"Stop that." He leaned up, kissed the corner of Dylan’s mouth. "We’re both sorry. I’m sorry I made it harder for you." 

"You didn’t." Dylan’s face was wet. "You said what was in my gut. I just couldn’t--I couldn’t let that win." e sighed, wiped his face with his free hand. "How did Lea take it?"

"It’s hard to say. She got quiet. I’m not sure she really gets it."

"Maybe that’s for the best. She’ll get used to the idea gradually." Dylan squeezed his hand again. "Bed."

"Bed," Harper agreed, but his heart thumped dolefully on their way there. 

  


* * *

Days passed. And then more days. They were no closer to locating the Falco than they had been, but Bell’s World underwent some political upheaval in the aftermath of the Falco’s attack, and the Commonwealth had a new member.

Dylan knew he should have been happier about it. Suspected that at some level he was. The pain hadn’t lessened, precisely, but he was getting used to it. It helped that nobody tiptoed around it, it helped that Harper had understood, it helped that Lea would put her arms around his neck every night and tell him gravely that she loved him.

But it didn’t make it go away. Especially when Lea would look around, a little lost, and ask when Pip would come back.

The worst part of it was that the soldier in him was appalled by this emotional indulgence. There were matters far larger than his pain and Philip’s choice, there was the pain of everyone who had suffered from the fall of the Commonwealth, there was law and justice and unity, and yet in quiet moments, when his mind wasn’t occupied, all he could think about was Philip’s mute nod, the tentative way Philip had returned his embrace.

He’d missed something key, something he could have done or said to keep Philip with them. Some gesture he could have, should have made, something he should have done. Something he should have seen. 

Or so he told himself.

He woke one morning to find Lea standing beside the bed and clutching Pali, finger in her mouth. He blinked at her. Leaned up one elbow. "How did you get in here, baby?"

Lea took her finger out of her mouth. "I pusheded the chair over and climbed up." Matter of fact. "We has to go back and get Pip. I will tell him to come back." Solemnly.

Dylan blinked again. Harper mumbled something into the pillow and squirmed closer to him. "What?" he asked stupidly.

Lea climbed on the bed. "I has to tell him to come back." Still solemn. "I forgotted to tell him, that’s why he went away."

Dylan’s eyes prickled. "Baby, Philip wanted to go and stay with Benaja. We’ll see him again."

"But if I tell Pip I want him to come back, he will come back." Very certain tone.

For a lunatic moment, he found himself wondering if it would work. "Lea, we can’t tell him what to do. Benaja wanted him to live there and Philip wanted to live there."

"But he didn’t know I wanted him to stay here." Plaintive note. "We has to go get Pip so I can tell him."

Harper raised his head. "Actually, I kind of like that idea."

"Harper, we can’t." But he sounded weak, even to himself. Was this what he hadn’t done? What he’d missed? 

"Why not?" Harper’s hair stuck up wildly, as it always did every morning. "We aren’t due at Tanis for three more weeks, we’re done with Bell’s World, all we’ve got on our plates is the Falco, and we might be able to dig some more up at the station."

He was weakening. He knew he was weakening. "There is that," he muttered.

"So, we’ll get a chance to check that he’s all right." Harper leaned up on one elbow. "That’s a good thing, right?"

"That’s a Good Thing," Lea agreed. "And I can tell him."

"I’m not sure telling him is fair," Dylan said helplessly. "You don’t want him to feel badly, baby."

"I won’t make him feel bad, Dylan, I will just tell him." She blinked at him, hugged Pali. 

His throat ached suddenly. Pushing himself upright, he pulled Lea into his lap. "It’s a Good Thing to make sure he’s all right," he finally said, tugging one curly lock gently. "And to see him again, yes."

Harper’s mouth curved. "Great. Great idea, munchkin."

Lea nodded soberly. "I miss Pip."

"We all do," Harper told her and stretched under the blankets. "Hey, how’d you get in here?" Startled.

Dylan arched an eyebrow. "She pushed the chair over to the door and climbed up to reach the door control."

"I had to stretch," Lea said and mimed stretching. "Stretch tall."

It was hard to keep from smiling at Harper’s expression. "We said she couldn’t climb on ladders," he said mildly. "Not chairs."

"I’m taking a shower," Harper said, "I’ll let you figure out how to explain to her that doing that is _not_ a Good Thing."

Great. But somehow, the weight of sadness had lifted. And _that_ was a very Good Thing. 

  


* * *

If anyone else was perplexed by the fact that they were heading to Karna Station less than two months after their last visit, they managed to keep it to themselves. Dylan privately suspected that Harper had made dire threats to be carried out if anyone so much had commented.

If anyone thought it was odd that he resisted the idea of calling ahead, they likewise kept their thoughts to themselves.

The truth was, Dylan was feeling superstitious, as if calling ahead would be bad luck. Or maybe it was that he hoped to find out that Benaja wasn’t the good man he’d seemed to be, giving him free rein to use whatever emotional blackmail required to bring Philip back to them. He hoped it wasn’t the latter; even superstition was preferable to Philip being treated... the way he’d been treated on the Falco.

Karna Station hadn’t changed, and the kiosk was still where it had been. Benaja was there, behind the counter; he gave Dylan a long, unsurprised look.

"Philip?" Dylan held that look. 

Benaja nodded and turned, said something inaudible to the girl standing behind him. Came around from behind the counter and blinked at Lea, standing beside Harper and holding his hand. "Is _that_ Amalea?" Astonished.

Lea promptly hid behind Harper’s legs.

"Yes, it is. She’s Harper’s daughter." Warningly. He might not have had the claim over Philip, but Lea--that was a different story.

Benaja stared at Harper, smiled tentatively at Lea. "We must talk, Captain Hunt."

"We can talk later. I want to see Philip." No stalling, no waiting, and somewhere in the underpart of his mind, that superstitious fear flared again. "Where is he?"

"He’s working. I’ll take you there, but I must speak with you first." 

"I want Pip," Lea said suddenly. "Where’s my Pip?"

Benaja’s expression went odd, then, a little soft, a little sad. "I’ll take you soon, little." Benaja crouched down, eye level, and Lea came out from behind Harper, although she still clung to his leg. "My word on it."

It eased Dylan’s fear a little. "All right, what is it?"

Benaja looked at Lea, rose again. "Tea," he said, not quite looking at Dylan. "We’ll talk over some tea."

Impatience flared. "Is Philip all right?"

Sidelong look, almost bitter. "He’s fine, Captain."

Confused, Dylan frowned. "Is he?"

Benaja turned decisively, went to the counter. Came back with five cups; four steamed gently, and the fifth held what looked like soy milk. "We can sit down over here," he said and walked past Dylan toward one of the tables outside the kiosk. 

Dylan looked at Harper, shrugged and followed.

Lea was content in Harper’s lap, although she was still wary of Benaja. To Dylan’s increasing bad temper, Benaja talked to Lea, asking her about "Pip," and what Pip did, and skillfully drawing information out about Lea’s days and what she liked.

Harper was right. Lea loved everyone, although she hadn’t forgiven Tyr wholly for her fright. She relaxed, her hand fisted in Harper’s jacket, and prattled about Beka and Trance and the ‘bots for her hair and Pali, and her bed, and just as Dylan was about to lose all control and throttle Benaja, the other man gave him a weary look. "You had best take the boy with you when you leave, Captain." 

There was sadness beneath the weariness, sadness in Benaja’s expression.

"What?" It was the last thing he’d expected, to be freely given what he couldn’t have, in fairness to Philip, asked for. 

"He’s eating his heart out here." Benaja sipped at his tea. "I don’t know why he agreed to stay. Habit, respect--I don’t know."

Dylan opened his mouth. Closed it. Harper was practically luminous with triumph. "Eating his heart out," he said, feeling thickheaded. "He’s unhappy here?"

"Oh, aye." Benaja smiled, a little sadly. "I want to do right by him, but it’s been near three Standard months and I still hear him at night once in a while. He’d rather set himself on fire than admit to crying, mind. But I’m not deaf, and I don’t have a heart of stone. I should have sent a message a month ago, but I hoped...." He sighed, his eyes on Lea. "Take him with you, Captain. Just... when you come by, we’d like to see him."

Dylan looked away. "Gladly." His own voice sounded odd. Rusty. "Where is he?"

"Do you know where Terhaz is?" 

"The machine shop?" Harper asked. "Yeah, I know where it is."

Benaja nodded. "He works there half days. I make him study in the afternoon, not that he appreciates it much. But I’d like something better for him than we had."

God. Could he have been this... honest? He wasn’t sure he could have been. Or maybe he had been, it was impossible for him to judge. Dylan rose, held out a hand to Benaja, who took it, looked him in the eye. "He’ll be glad to see you." Softly.

Dylan’s throat ached. "I hope you’re right. It could be the Falco he misses."

Benaja snorted. "Not bloody likely." He picked up the cups again, put them on the tray. "I’ll see you later, then. He’ll want his things, I know."

"Let’s go find Pip," Harper told Lea and rose, lifted her to his hip; his eyes sparkled at Dylan. "I know the way."

Dylan nodded. He felt oddly dislocated, all his best offense in disarray. Fortunately, Terhaz’ wasn’t far down the rim of the station. He strode ahead of Harper and Lea, went inside.

Saw Philip standing in front of a bin sorting parts and felt his stomach twist. "Philip." The boy turned, saw him. Widening eyes and all he had to do was reach and Philip was hugging him desperately hard, trembling. He felt woefully inadequate, just held the boy tightly. "Hey, hey, it’s all right."

"I missed you." Muffled voice. 

"I missed _you_ ," Dylan said huskily. "We _all_ missed you."

Hitch of breath, and Philip still held on. Dylan ruffled his hair. "Hey, Harper and Lea are here, too."

"Are they?" Philip drew back, his eyes a little reddened. 

"Pip!" Lea crowed, from behind Dylan. "Pip, Pip!"

Dylan let go reluctantly. Smiled as Philip scooped Lea up and hugged her, even hugged Harper, who laughed in pure delight.

"I can’t believe you’re here!" Philip blinked hard at Dylan. "Why did you come?"

"To see you," Dylan said firmly.

"Pip!" Lea put a small hand on each side of Philip’s face. "Pip, you has to come back. I missed you."

Philip turned scarlet, looked at Dylan. "Lea--"

"She’s only saying what she feels." Dylan felt shaky suddenly. "And I know, it’s not right for me to say it, it’s unfair, but I’d like that very much."

"I’ll triple that vote," Harper said cheerfully. "And if the others were voting--well, you can’t expect much from Tyr, but the rest of the crew’d be glad to see you."

Oh, torn, the boy looked so torn, almost painfully. "I--" Another hitching breath. "But--"

"Benaja thinks you’d be happier," Dylan said softly. "And we want you, Philip. I want you to come back. Maybe I’m not your father, but surely being--how many times is it, Harper?"

"I think we figured it was six times." Harper’s grin was antic. "He’s your however many times grandfather, though. That counts."

Philip’s mouth trembled. "I didn’t--I thought...."

Dylan smiled, feeling hope blossom. "That’s sort of a father, right?"

Philip closed his eyes, rubbed his face against Lea’s hair. "Right." Faintly. "I--I’d like to come back."

"Good," Lea said firmly. "Let’s go."

Harper laughed, and the sound made Dylan’s heart turn over. Harper’s instincts, as usual, had been on target. "Yes, let’s go. We need to get Philip’s things and let him say his goodbyes, although," he added, directly to Philip, "We’ll be back. We can’t cut you off from the few members of the family I approve of."

Philip’s smile was... like a sunrise. And so was Harper’s. He put an arm around both of them, nudged them toward the door. "I’ll tell your boss."

Philip nodded, a little dazed.

Lea looked at Dylan, her expression smug. "I told you," she said happily.

"You did," he agreed, laughing. "You did, minx. But don’t let it go to your head."

"I won’t." Still smug.

Harper rolled his eyes. "We’ve never going to hear the end of this."

As Dylan turned back to deal with Philip’s boss, he thought that Harper might just be right. 

  


* * *

"It’s Miriam," Benaja told Dylan, over another cup of tea. From the Lea giggles in the other room, it appeared Philip’s packing was proceeding well. "Things were different when I was a boy. Oh, my grandmother ran a tight ship, but Miriam--there’s a sickness there."

Dylan studied him. "Why do the rest stay?" Bluntly.

"Fear. Habit." Benaja shrugged. "Family. I stayed as long as I could, thinking that I’d be senior eventually, could change things. And not all have stayed. There’s Tregozzis all around the rim, stuck stationside, working salvage, freight, cousins that couldn’t stand what Miriam’s doing. And she’s not doing it alone. An accident here and there, and the balance shifts in council." Grim look. "When you’ve lived your entire life on the Falco, it’s damned hard to think of leaving, and some can’t even think through that far. So they’re afraid. Takes a lot of getting used to."

"Is that why Sabra stayed?" 

"Sabra." Benaja looked into his teacup, rubbed his thumb along the rim. "Miriam wouldn’t let Sabra leave, and anyway, Sabra’s been under her thumb since birth. The wonder is that Sabra ever dared thwart Miriam at all."

This wasn’t anything Dylan hadn’t already considered, and while it was very interesting-- "When did she turn to piracy?"

Keen look. "Piracy, is it? That’s new. She must be mad, a family ship." Grim again. "That I can’t tell you."

Dylan nodded. "Can you tell me anything? Because I’ll be blunt, I’m taking Miriam down."

Brief glint in Benaja’s eyes. "Something of balance in that, eh? I can give you what used to be the regular trade route, but if she’s gone to piracy, I don’t know it’ll help."

"I’d be grateful." They exchanged a grim look, and Lea danced out of Philip’s room, still giggling, scrambled into Dylan’s lap.

Benaja’s mouth curved. "There’s a rare handful," he said mildly.

"She’s going to be running the ship by the time she’s ten," Dylan agreed, amused and ruffled Lea’s hair. "Are you hiding, minx?"

"Abba was tickling." She gave his buckles a disapproving look. "Those bite my hair."

He shifted her to sit in the curve of his arm. "Better?"

"Better," she agreed and beamed at Benaja.

Harper came out with Philip’s carryall slung over his shoulder, and Philip followed, face flushed.

Setting his cup aside, Dylan rose, shifted Lea to his hip. Benaja likewise rose, smiled at Philip reassuringly. "That’s all of it, then?"

Philip nodded, shame and joy warring in his eyes. "I’m sorry, Benaja."

"Don’t be foolish, Pip." Benaja’s voice was kind. "You’ll have a chance to do things I couldn’t give you, and there’s Lea and Dylan--I’m glad you’ll be happy, that’s all I ever wanted to see. Just come back and see us, eh?"

Philip’s mouth curved a little. "I will." He looked at Dylan, eyes shining. 

Trust. God. Dylan reached out, squeezed Philip’s shoulder. "He will," he told Benaja.

A nod. "Let me get that printout for you," Benaja told him. "Won’t take but a moment."

"We’ve got time," Harper said cheerfully, and retrieved his daughter from Dylan. "Come on, munchkin, no more tickling."

She giggled. "Good."

Dylan just looked at Philip, certain that he was smiling idiotically. Ah, well, maybe it was age creeping in, this self-indulgence in sentiment, but at this point, he damned well didn’t care. 

  


* * *

Trance was the first to see Philip once they’d returned to the ship. "You brought him back!" 

"He came back," Dylan corrected and laughed as Trance enveloped Philip in a hug. Perhaps predictably, Philip turned scarlet. "And we’re very glad he did."

Trance released Philip and beamed at him. "Oh, it’s good to have you back, Philip, we’ve missed you."

Dylan wondered if Harper would punch him if he kissed Trance. Probably not, but a warm and grateful smile seemed safest, so he gave her one. 

Harper just beamed. "See, I told you, kid. Wasn’t just us."

Lea squirmed to get down. "Pip, let’s get icies."

Harper narrowed his eyes at her. "Only one." He set her on her feet and she bounced in front of Philip, aglow with delight.

Laughing, Dylan took Philip’s carryall. "Go ahead," he told Philip and winked. "She’s bossy, but we love her."

Philip laughed back, glowing as much as Lea. "We do," he agreed and took Lea’s hand. "Only one, Abba said."

"Okay!" Cheery little voice and Lea did a bounce every third step.

Harper laughed softly. "Good work, Dad."

"Bite me," Dylan said happily.

"Close your eyes, Trance," Harper said, and she did. Leaning up, Harper stole a kiss. "I’ll just go make sure she doesn’t wear him down," he said against Dylan’s mouth. "And you, I’ll see later."

Vast affection and a frisson of desire, and Dylan pulled him back for another kiss. "Count on it."

Trance, eyes still closed, giggled. 

Harper grinned. "Okay, Trance. You wanna have an icy, too?" 

She opened her eyes. "I’d love to have an icy." 

Dylan grinned, watched them go after Lea and Philip and turned toward Philip’s quarters. 

  


* * *

"Uh, Dylan," Beka said, coming up behind Dylan in the corridor as he made his way back to the command deck. "So, do we have to make a fast getaway?"

"Beka," he said chidingly. "Don’t be ridiculous, I didn’t abduct him."

Her mouth curved. "He _is_ awfully happy to be back. So what the hell was that all about do you suppose?"

"I don’t know," he admitted. "I really don’t. Benaja hasn’t even figured it out." He handed her the flexie Benaja had given him. "The Falco’s trade routes."

Beka looked at it, eyes gleaming. "Ah, good work."

"None of my doing." He said it ruefully. "Benaja’s a better man than I am."

She mock-punched his shoulder. "Don’t be so hard on yourself. You let him go."

"Yeah, but I didn’t want to." Dylan sighed. 

"So? You think Benaja wants to?"

He couldn’t help smiling at that. "Point taken."

"Good." She studied the routes, smiled ferally. "This makes it a little easier. By the way, I downloaded the news reports, put something in your folder you’ll want to see."

His stomach did a lazy roll. "The arachnoids."

"Possibly." She gave him a sober look. "Some Than freighters went missing. I’m surprised we haven’t heard from the Hegemony."

"They may not have connected it." He’d delivered warnings, but there were other, more pressing dangers. Nietzscheans, Magog--there was a theory that the Magog were an engineered species, but engineered by whom and why remained an elusive concept. "It _could_ be piracy."

"True. But I’d bet it’s not the Falco." Grim smile. "We did them some damage, and I’ve been checking reports from other stations in this quadrant, the Falco hasn’t shown up."

Dylan shook his head. "Beka, if they keep components on hand, and they’ve got their own engineers, all they’d have to do is hole up somewhere and do the repairs."

"With the damage they took? Maybe. If the engine core wasn’t damaged." She grinned suddenly. "You know, all of a sudden, you look about ten years younger."

Dylan laughed. "Only three hundred and thirty two? Why thank you, Beka, I’m flattered."

She took hold of his arms and turned him around. A little baffled, he let her. "What are you doing?"

"I’m sending you off to play with your kids. Tell me where we’re going and I’ll take this shift."

Hell, he reflected, was being torn between personal desire and duty. "Beka, I--"

"Go." Firmly. "Am I or am I not your first officer?"

"You are," he agreed, beginning to smile in spite of himself.

"Then I’m relieving you of duty. Dylan, you’ve worked double and triple shifts in the last two months, I want to do this." Sober look. Long look. "Go on, Dylan. You did the right thing and it damn near killed you and Harper both. You earned some good karma, don’t you think?"

"I’m not sure I believe in karma," he told her, but finally nodded. "Okay, I accept. Thank you."

She beamed. "You’re welcome. Go welcome your kid back home."

Home, he thought and found himself a little bemused. It _was_ home, evolving in a way he hadn’t anticipated. This crew-- _his_ crew--had evolved in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Good ways, mind. "Really, Beka, thank you."

She grinned suddenly, wickedly. "Don’t worry. You can owe me."

"Ah," he said dryly. "Favor points."

She winked. "Ship’s currency." Patted his arm and headed toward command deck herself.

Woefully self-indulgent, but he went in the opposite direction. To welcome his kid home.

  


* * *

Lea, worn out by excitement, went to sleep without protest, curled around Pali and with a small, sweet smile on her face.

Philip accepted and gave a hug when Dylan walked him to his quarters.

His kid, Dylan thought, holding on. "I think you’ve gotten taller in the last two months," he said and drew back. Smiled. "In fact, I’m pretty sure of it."

Philip grinned and ducked his head. "Maybe."

Dylan ruffled his hair. "You need anything? Nobody’s touched your quarters except for the cleaning ‘bots, but if you need anything...." He was being fatuous, knew it and couldn’t quite stop himself.

Philip shook his head. "Good night, Dylan." Practically luminescent. "It’s so good to be back."

His throat tightened and he hugged the boy again. "It’s damn good to have you back," he muttered. "Get some sleep. If I know the minx, she’s going to keep you busy tomorrow."

Philip laughed. "She’s so funny."

"Don’t take too much from her," Dylan advised. "She _is_ funny, but she’s also, as Benaja said, a rare handful."

Philip grinned. "She is."

He touched Philip’s hair again. The tight ache that had been in his chest and belly for two months had gone. "Good night, Philip." Affectionately. "Off to bed with you."

Laughing, Philip went inside his quarters. Dylan sighed, shook his head at himself ruefully and went back to his own quarters.

Harper immediately pounced on him and began backing him toward the bed. "I want you, now," Harper said huskily and busy fingers started undoing buckles and holsters and--well, everything Harper could get to.

He certainly wasn’t going to protest, not that he could with Harper’s tongue in his mouth, and let himself be pushed backward to the bed. Harper’s mouth left his so Harper could slide down and start on his pants and he made a sound of complaint, toed his boots off awkwardly. When Harper tugged at his pants, Dylan lifted his ass off the bed; when Harper slid off him to pull said pants off, Dylan took that opportunity to rid himself of his jacket and shirt.

He was swiftly borne down again and kissed breathless, kissed until he was dizzy with it, and then Harper began to squirm down again, licking and kissing and nipping. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve this, but he wasn’t complaining, no, no, he wasn’t insane, just lightheaded. His nipples felt tight before Harper even got there; he slid the fingers of one hand into Harper’s hair and the other hand under Harper’s shirt. Harper was still fully dressed, and he was torn about that. There was something bizarrely arousing about the fabric brushing against his bare skin, and yet... and yet, Harper’s bare skin was so hot, physically hot, as if a small reactor core burned inside, and he was as hard enough that he ached as if they’d been going at it for hours. "Harper," he said hoarsely. "Fuck me."

Harper licked his nipple and gave him a heavy-lidded look. "Sure."

"Now," he said.

Harper’s mouth curved. "Okay."

"Leave the clothes on." 

Something sparked behind Harper’s eyes, something hot and feral and so goddamn sexy that Dylan felt dizzy again. "You got it." 

Lube and Harper’s fingers, then lube and Harper’s cock, and Dylan pushed into that, welcoming the burn, the edge of pain, and, god, fabric sliding against his skin while Harper’s cock moved inside him. 

God, god, and this was good, and it wasn’t going to last long from the sensation at the base of his spine, from the way Harper’s face went distant and ecstatic with each thrust, and he didn’t care, they didn’t have anything to prove to one another, only this connection, this heat, and shouldn’t they be getting bored with this by now? He certainly wasn’t complaining, Harper wasn’t complaining, and Harper’s eyes went half-closed and his grip on Dylan’s cock became more ruthless.

He came with a shout, triumph and gladness, and then Harper thrust again, cried out his name. Sagged down over him, eyes still half-closed. "Oh. Man."

Dylan felt nearly boneless with satiation, but put his hand on the back of Harper’s neck. Rubbed it. "Yeah."

A Harper nuzzle. "Have I mentioned lately that I’m crazy in love with you?"

Dylan smiled senselessly at the ceiling. "Have I?"

Another nuzzle. "I don’t think I remember. My brain just melted."

"Ditto."

More nuzzling. Shifting. Harper sighed against his skin. "I need to get out of these clothes."

"Oh, yeah." Now he wanted Harper naked, warm skin against his. Helped Harper in a sort of boneless, haphazard way, and then folded Harper against him. "Trance is Beka’s good luck charm." Lazily.

"Uh-huh." Harper wiped Dylan’s chest and belly with his t-shirt. "And?"

Another senseless smile, but his eyes were closing. "Looks like you’re mine."

  


* * *

Philip blended almost seamlessly back into the daily routine of the ship, into the routine that Dylan and Harper had developed around Lea. Almost seamlessly.

Harper heard... well, not quite shouting, but definitely loud voices and poked his head out of the access hatch to see Dylan and Tyr standing outside the hangar bay having a very heated conversation.

"Dammit, you do _not_ take unilateral action with either Philip or Lea, have you got that? You aren’t the captain of this ship!"

"He’s not a child," Tyr shouted back. "And in the event of an emergency, he may _need_ these skills."

"That’s what you said when you tried to teach Trance slipstream piloting." Dylan was clearly furious.

Tyr did have a good point, Harper reckoned, but trying to tell Dylan at this point was wasted effort.

He climbed out of the hatch. "Hey, what’s all the yelling?"

Dylan swung toward him. "Stay out of this, Harper." 

Harper held his hands up. "Hey, I’m not in it." Mildly. "Just wondered what was going on."

Tyr didn’t turn. "I had Philip on the Maru, giving him his first lesson in piloting."

Harper blinked. "Have a death wish all of a sudden? That’s pretty un-Nietzschean of you."

"We never left the hangar bay," Tyr added, still not looking at him. "I was teaching him the boards."

That seemed fairly harmless. Harper looked at Dylan, who had taken a deep breath and seemed to be cycling back on his temper. "So where is Philip now?"

Dylan glowered at Tyr. "I sent him to get some lunch with Rev and Lea."

"Think I’ll join them."

This time, they both looked at him. He could see Dylan take a mental step back and hear the worry wheels going as Dylan considered Philip’s state of mind. Good, that was good, it was better than fighting with Tyr over something that wasn’t, after all, a bad idea. As much as he hated to admit it.

"So will I," Dylan said abruptly. "You don’t make decisions unilaterally, Tyr. I suggest you remember that."

Tyr arched an eyebrow at Harper. "Noted."

Dylan continued to scowl as they walked toward the officers’ mess. 

"Dylan," Harper finally risked. "Ease up, unless you want to spend a couple of days reassuring Philip you’re not mad at him."

That only directed the scowl at him, but after a moment, Dylan nodded grudgingly. "I know."

Harper arched an eyebrow. "You know, Tyr pisses me off, and I sure as hell wouldn’t let him teach Philip to pilot, but you could do it."

Narrow look that relaxed as Dylan though about it. "If he wants to learn," he finally agreed, "but I have no way of knowing that Tyr didn’t badger him into it, the way he badgered Trance."

"Good point." Harper sighed. "Or badgered Lea with the ‘bad things’. But you know, if the kid _does_ have an interest, it could be a sort of bonding thing. I mean, he works with me a lot, but you don’t get a lot of time with him."

Harper could almost hear the wheels turning, only these weren’t worry wheels, this was something else. He had to bite back a grin; when it came to the kids, he had to privately admit that Dylan was soooooo easy to nudge. Fortunately, he only used his power for good, he told himself righteously, but oh, it was hard not to smile. Instead, he nudged Dylan affectionately. "Good idea, huh."

Brief exasperation. "Only if that’s what he wants. I’m not going to try and press him into some mold, dammit. And even if he is still obsessed with working to earn his keep, I’m trying to tone that down. Teaching him that he’s got to crosstrain on every fucking ship’s function isn’t going to help me there."

"Yeah, I get that. Half the time, I sit him down with manuals or reading. Kid’s got a good grasp of physics already, reads like a speed demon."

That earned him a smile. A really warm smile. Dylan’s temper had cooled, and damned if he didn’t feel good about being able to nudge that process along. "Good work."

"Of course." Harper grinned. "The Harper is good."

"The Harper is better than good," Dylan said. "The Harper is a man of many, many talents."

"And good in bed, too." Harper smirked.

"Fantastic in bed," Dylan agreed and smoldered at him.

Guh. "If you keep doing that, neither of us is going to get any lunch."

Wicked grin. "Sorry, I have to make sure I didn’t upset Philip. You’re going to have to wait."

"Tease."

Dylan smirked. 

Yup, all the way out of bad temper and into good humour again. He smiled, nudged Dylan again. "You’ll get yours."

"I’m counting on it."

They reached the mess, and Philip seemed fine, he brightened when they came in, no hesitation. Dylan’s expression showed a trace of relief for an instant, and then Lea crowed at them both. A kiss for the top of Lea’s head, a hair ruffle for Philip, and Dylan went to get himself something to eat, came back to sit down with the kids. 

Harper winked at Philip and got his own, sat down next to Dylan and, just for the sake of amusement, rubbed his thigh against Dylan’s.

That got a warning look and Dylan went back to talking to Philip. "You know, if you’d like to learn, Philip, I’d be glad to give you lessons."

Philip’s eyes widened. "Really? But I don’t want to take up your time--"

Dylan held up a hand. "Really."

Philip ducked his head, grinned. "I’d like that."

Dylan beamed as much as the kid at that, Harper decided.

"I want to pilot," Lea said plaintively.

"When you’re as big as Philip," Dylan told her, smiling. "You’re still just a little bit of a girl, baby. But someday."

That cut no ice, she sulked through the rest of her meal until Harper lifted her out of her chair and into his lap. "Hmmm, no happy plate today."

She looked up at him. "I want to work with you," she said, a little jealously.

"Okay, I’ll take you with me when you finish your lunch." He tugged at her little topknot. "But only if you finish your lunch."

Dylan looked askance at this. "You will?"

"Not to worry." Harper grinned. "We’re not going to be in the machine shop."

"No ladders," Dylan said firmly to Lea.

She sulked back at him. "I don’t love you any more."

"Hey," Harper said sharply. "That’s not funny."

Dylan’s expression was startled. A little taken aback. "I still love you, though," he told Lea.

Lea put her finger in her mouth, gazed nervously at Harper. "That better not come out of your mouth again, Lea," he warned.

"Easy," Dylan murmured. "That’s a kid thing, don’t get upset."

"I don’t care if it’s a kid thing or not." Harper frowned at Lea, who put her face into his shirt. "It’s not going to be my kid’s thing."

Dylan’s hand rested on his shoulder. "Hey." Very softly. "It’s okay, Harper."

"It was just an expression of bad temper," Rev said, equally softly.

A tear rolled down the side of Lea’s nose. Damn, he couldn’t deal with that, either. "Okay," he said, and lifted her to his shoulder. "I’m sorry I yelled, Lea mia, but that’s not nice."

She clung to him. A little worried now, he rubbed her back. "I still love you, too." 

"J. E. A. L. O. U. S." Dylan smiled at him. "A little rivalry here."

"Oh, great." Harper rolled his eyes. "Twelve years until she’s big enough to teach."

"Twelve years which will fly by very quickly," Rev said and chuckled. 

"In twelve years, I’ll probably be so old that Philip will have to teach her." Dylan’s mouth quirked. "Lea, when Philip’s ready to take his first flight, you can come along, how’s that?"

She lifted her head, snuffled. "I can?"

Philip nodded. "Of course!"

Rev chuckled again. "There, that wasn’t so bad, Lea."

Lea studied Dylan. "I still love you, Dylan." Snuffled again. 

Dylan took a napkin and wiped her nose, leaned in to kiss her cheek. "I know, baby."

She looked at Harper. "You still mad at me?" A little tearfully.

Harper sighed. "No, munchkin. I just don’t like you saying stuff like that. How about I help you finish your lunch and we go get some work done."

Dylan grinned, looked at Philip. "And you, why don’t you come up to command deck, we’ll start you on the boards."

Philip’s eyes widened. "Now?"

"Now," Dylan agreed.

Rivalry, Harper thought and sighed inwardly. Great. And they weren’t even siblings.

The only thing that saved the rest of the day, as far as he was concerned, is that Dylan took over when they went officially offshift, handling the midget _and_ Philip until, at last, Philip went back to his quarters and Lea was in bed.

He was lying flat on his back on the bed when Dylan came back from doing the tucking up thing with Philip. Not that Dylan was really tucking Philip up, he knew that; Dylan was just making sure Philip felt enclosed in this weird domestic circle. That was a good thing, and he approved, but it was hard to summon enthusiasm at the moment.

Dylan came in, looked at him, and smiled. "Tired?"

"Yeah." Except that wasn’t all of it. He’d been feeling unsettled, not exactly depressed, since the scene in the officers’ mess. 

Dylan sat down on the edge of the bed, tugged Harper’s boots off. Got rid of his own and stretched out next to Harper. "Still worried about what happened with Lea?" Very softly.

He shrugged, as much as anyone can shrug lying down. "Bothered me."

Dylan’s fingertips brushed over his mouth lightly. "Harper, don’t." Dylan’s mouth brushed his temple. "It’s--she’s feeling displaced, that’s all. Philip’s bigger and gets to do fun things, and we’re telling her to stay off ladders and don’t climb on chairs to work the door control, and she’s only three."

He rolled into Dylan, put his face in Dylan’s shirt. Fucking dumb to be this upset about it, he thought distantly, when Dylan wasn’t. Dylan’s fingers combed through the hair on the back of his head; he closed his eyes and listened to Dylan’s heartbeat for a while. "Yeah, I get that," he finally said. "But I gotta admit, it bothered me a lot. And to tell you the truth, I’m not sure how I’d feel if she said it to me."

"It would sting," Dylan said softly. "But I know you. You’d know what it was about."

Something tight in his chest unknotted. "You think?"

"I know." 

He sighed, breathed in the scent of Dylan, nuzzled. "I’m glad one of us does."

"That’s one of the captain’s duties," Dylan said.

He could hear the smile in Dylan’s voice, snickered into Dylan’s shirt. "It’s that whole being sure of yourself thing, huh?"

"Something like that." Dylan’s hand moved to his back, rubbed between his shoulder blades. "Take off your shirt, you’re all knotted up."

A back rub. Guh. Harper pushed himself upright, peeled out of his shirt; Dylan rolled over and dug something out of the cabinet next to the bed. He grinned at the sight of it. "Trance’s magic stuff."

"Hey, it works." Sweet smile.

Double guh. He rolled onto his belly, sighed as Dylan’s hands settled on his shoulders. "Bottom ever falls out of this Commonwealth thing, you have a career ahead of you as a massage artist."

Dylan laughed softly, fingers seeking out the knots and loosening them. "I only want one customer. Does this conversation feel strangely familiar to you?"

Harper thought about it, grinned. "Oh, yeah, it does. God, that seems like a long time ago."

"Comparatively speaking it was. Nearly two years." Brief kiss against Harper’s nape.

"You scared hell out of me, you were so sick. I mean, I had this whole indestructible Dylan thing left over from when you kicked Gerentex’s ass when we salvaged Andromeda."

"I wish." 

"Hey, you’re close." Harper smiled a little, remembering back. "I mean, one guy. And you kicked their asses."

"I had a ship to protect." Another nuzzle, this time underneath his ear. "And a crew to recruit. Although, I admit, I didn’t realize that at the time."

"Fast worker, fast talker." Harper smiled, felt tension draining away as Dylan worked down his back. "God, that’s good."

"Wait until I get to your ass." Laughter underneath Dylan’s tone.

He felt the first faint throb of desire, grinned into the bed. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah." Dylan’s hands were at the small of his back now, sliding under him to unfasten his pants.

Obligingly, Harper lifted up, sighed happily at the slide of fabric as Dylan worked them off. "Can we do this every night?" 

Dylan kissed the small of his back. "If you want."

He looked over his shoulder, shivered at Dylan’s focused expression. "Get rid of the clothes."

Dylan looked up, arched an eyebrow. "That could be dangerous. You sure you want that?"

Guh. "I’m sure." Huskily.

Long smile. "Good thing I hit the override on Lea’s door control to keep it locked."

Hot, hot gaze, and his body was responding to that, oh, yeah. He rubbed himself against the bed. "Hurry up."

Dylan got off the bed and obliged, taking his time. That was okay, really; he liked watching, he liked it a lot.

Dylan settled over his thighs again, warm skin against his own. And dammit, wouldn’t you know that Dylan was going to continue the massage when all Harper could think about now was that warm skin. He took in a deep breath, squirmed a little and, yeah, he could feel Dylan’s balls, the inside of Dylan’s thighs; Dylan’s hands kneaded his buttocks, spreading them apart slightly.

He whimpered. "Tease."

"Patience." Dylan’s tone was too amused. 

Harper squirmed again, pushed his ass up slightly, hoped it was at least slightly provocative. It must have been; Dylan drew a fingertip down the cleft, very lightly. Did it again, teased a little. Patience, he thought, and took in another breath. No hurries, no worries, just this, and, yeah, he could be patient. Especially when the payoff was good, hell, great.

And this was shaping up nicely, Dylan’s mouth warm on his hip, big hand cupping the other hip, and warm breath, the silken brush of Dylan’s hair on his skin. Closing his eyes, Harper let his awareness narrow down to the awareness of touch, the awareness of Dylan.

"You _still_ don’t know what you do to me," Dylan whispered and shifted, stroking a hand over his back. "Or how much it surprised me." Another kiss, this one between his shoulderblades. A nip at the nape of his neck. "That’s not a complaint, by the way."

Harper smiled. "Surprised me, too."

A nuzzle in his hair and even though Dylan’s weight wasn’t resting on him, he could feel the heat. He turned his head, Dylan leaned in and kissed his mouth. Long and slow and sweet, and he wanted that weight on him, wanted it badly. Moved one leg and shifted Dylan’s balance and then he had it, had Dylan laughing in his ear. "Greedy."

Oh, it felt good, and Dylan was as hard as he was, pressing into the cleft of his ass. It felt really good, really, really good. Hard to believe, really hard to believe, but their time together had erased or overwritten all the twitches left over from Bannon; two years ago, he would have freaked, but now all he felt was lust and affection and oh, yeah, embarrassingly, safety.

Dylan kissed him again, awkward position, but the height difference worked like this.

"Want you," he breathed, nipped at Dylan’s chin. "Need you."

"You’ve got me." Husky and Dylan shifted, got his balance back, worked down Harper’s spine, kisses following the line of his vertebrae. This time, when Dylan’s fingers touched him, they were slippery.

Harper pushed his ass up a little, groaned in pleasure as Dylan’s fingers breached him, stretched him. Big hands, long fingers, and damn, Dylan knew how to use them. Little sparks of pleasure jolting his nerves, and no wonder Dylan always teased him about his lack of patience, those sparks started and he was ready to go, ready to be filled and stretched and by god fucked senseless.

Bannon? Who the hell was Bannon, he was gone, dead, burnt or frozen in vacuum, and this was Harper’s life, thank whatever god there might be. "Do it, please." Thin whine in his voice. 

Dylan didn’t make him wait, though he whimpered when Dylan’s fingers withdrew. Blunt and thick and hot, and oh, yeah, breathe through the burn, the stretch, but they’d been doing this long enough that it wasn’t what it had been at first. Another deep breath and he pushed back, and then Dylan was all the way in, hanging over him, breathing harsh and shaky.

"God, Harper." Faintly, almost a hoarse whisper.

His cock, which always lost interest right about here, perked up at the sound of Dylan’s voice. That sound, lost and barely controlled, and, man, that revved things right back up. Dylan slid both hands under him, shifted them both back and he was held against Dylan’s chest, practically sitting in Dylan’s lap.

His hands closed over Dylan’s forearms, almost white-knuckled. "Oh, man, that’s so good fuck, fuck, fucking incredible." Babbling.

Dylan’s hips moved, slow thrust; Dylan’s mouth worked at the side of his throat. One arm shifted and fingers closed around him still slippery with lube. Oh, yeah, like that, just like that, and there was still something crazily hilarious that Captain Terrific, upright and sometimes uptight, was this hot in bed, this good.

Emotion and sensation and he was moving, too, pushing forward into Dylan’s hand, pushing back into Dylan’s cock, and the angle was just so fucking right, he wasn’t sure he didn’t want to just stay here for, oh, say another twenty or thirty years, right here, impaled and babbling and held tightly, safely against falling too far.

Dylan was muttering into his throat, but he couldn’t hear the words, couldn’t even make sense of what _he_ was babbling, but he was going to have one hell of a red mark there tomorrow, and he didn’t give a damn, just another territorial marking and that cracked him up, or would have if he wasn’t getting ready to spontaneously combust right here and now.

Oh, yeah, definitely, and Dylan’s mouth moved to his ear, tongue flicking the lobe and tracing the curve, and he was getting closer and closer and Dylan whispered, "Come for me, Harper, come for me." Intense, hot, and okay, he gave it up, it was too good to resist and just fucking exploded, hard enough that his toes curled.

Dylan groaned in his ear, pushed into him hard and deep and god, god, if he didn’t know that multiple orgasm was pretty much anatomically impossible, he could swear he was coming _again_ , could swear he felt Dylan’s cock thicken more and explode. Crazy, crazy stuff, and his toes were still curled, and oh, shit, he got a cramp in his calf and Dylan caught on quick, tipped them both over sideways so he could stretch his leg out, laughing and cursing and gasping.

"Oh," he finally said, "That was good."

Dylan’s hand was almost possessive on his hip. "Sorry about the cramp." Lazy tone. "And yeah, it was...."

"Sensational," Harper finished for him. "Yeah, it was." He squirmed, but not very much. Dylan was softening, and he always felt a moment of regret for that moment of separation. Warm kisses on his shoulder and jaw, and boy, he’d really exploded, spectacular wet spot on the blanket just beyond them, and it made him giggle. 

"What?" Amused, Dylan nipped him. "What’s so funny?"

"I’m just crazed," Harper told him, between giggles. "I think I set some kind of distance record."

Dylan started laughing with him, which seemed as good a way to come down from a sexual high as any.

He wasn’t upset any more. Things seemed back in perspective; Lea was a three-year-old, occasionally fractious, and Dylan knew that, Dylan wasn’t going to be destroyed by that, and neither should he be. "Shower?"

"Bath," Dylan countered. "A long, hot soak."

Guh again. "Okay."

That got him thoroughly kissed, like he’d said something smart. Was he complaining? No how, no way.

But he crossed his fingers anyway for good luck.

  


* * *

They found the Falco unexpectedly, far from the usual trade routes and on their way to someone else. Unfortunately, Philip was on command deck, sitting in the pilot’s seat while they were in normal space; when Rommie put the tactical grid up, Philip blinked and said, a little alarmed, "That’s the Falco."

And so it was. Hanging motionless in space, unthreatening and very suspicious, and Rommie’s sensors told them the Falco was on emergency power.

"Life signs?" Dylan rubbed his lower lip with his thumb. "Philip, bring us around, I want a good look at her before we get closer. Trance, any answer yet?"

"No, Dylan, nothing." Trance was frowning the viewscreen. 

"It’s a trick," Tyr said softly.

"Maybe. Life signs, Rommie?"

"Still scanning. There are 150 people on board, Dylan, and they’re alive, but... there’s very little movement."

Dylan frowned, glanced at Philip and saw sweat beading the boy’s forehead. He put his hand over Philip’s wrist. "Why don’t I take over for the moment," he said softly. "Philip, you are _not_ going back there. Even if you wanted to, I wouldn’t let you."

Brief unreadable flicker behind Philip’s eyes. "I know that." But his voice was shaky and he ducked his head.

Dylan brought Andromeda around, saw signs of damage, of rigging as if someone had been working in vacuum and then, as they got closer, he saw the figures, floating loose on tethers. "Rommie--"

"They’re dead, Dylan." Rommie’s expression was grave.

"Scan the ship again, Rommie." He grated the words. 

"Readings are indeterminate, Dylan." Her voice was uninflected.

"Check the life signs again, are they in cryogenic stasis?" He frowned at the screen.

"No, they don’t appear to be in stasis." Rommie was frowning again. 

He rubbed his thumb over his lower lip. "Is that a hull breach?" He turned to look at Tyr. "Is that where you hit them last time."

Tyr shook his head. "No, I targeted weapons systems and the engines." His expression was somber. "This is more recent and I’d venture to say it’s neither."

"It’s not." Faintly.

God, he’d forgotten for a moment that Philip was watching this. "Philip, go get Harper," he said, more to get the boy off the bridge than anything else. "And please stay with Lea."

Philip blinked hard. "Please...." Faintly.

He got out of the pilot’s chair, put an arm around Philip’s shoulders. "Philip, as soon as we know what’s going on, you’ll know. But I need Harper up here now, and I don’t want you worrying until there’s something to worry about."

Philip gave him a long look. "You’ll tell me?" Voice cracking upward. Trusting him. "Please."

God. "As soon as we know, Philip." Softly. 

Philip went. Turning back to the viewscreen, Dylan frowned again. "I have a very bad feeling," he muttered.

"So," Beka said softly, "do I. Pirates?"

"Not enough damage," Tyr growled. "And they’re alive."

"And immobile." Dylan leaned on the railing.

"Not everyone," Rommie said suddenly. "There are approximately thirty people who are active."

Dylan looked at Trance. "Any answer?"

She shook her head.

He really had a bad feeling about this. "We’re going to have to board."

"Is that smart?" Beka frowned. "Look, Dylan, you know who we’re dealing with here--"

"There are children on board." He glanced at Beka. "I don’t like it either. But--" He frowned at the screen again. "Rommie, I want to send in ‘bots at first, we aren’t going in there blind."

"Understood." 

He didn’t like it. Didn’t like it at all. 

  


* * *

The ‘bots gave them no good news. Part of the ship had decompressed, and there were skittering movements just out of video range. They watched the screen, all of them silent, and Dylan kept his fingers linked tightly, remembering his own past and none too happy about it. 

There were two areas still intact, and one was a cargo hold. The other....

"That’s the seniors’ quarters," Philip said when consulted, his eyes on the schematic. He pointed. "This is the creche--" His voice trembled and Dylan put his hand on Philip’s back, felt him shiver. "That’s cargo hold one, it has external access."

"How many people in there, Rommie?"

"Life signs suggest at least twenty."

Philip leaned against him, hitched in a breath. "What are you going to do?"

"We’re going to get them out." He moved his hand to the back of Philip’s neck. "Carefully."

Beka nodded silently. "So have you got any actual tactical plan, Dylan?" Dryly.

"I do." He looked at her apologetically. "I’d like to take the Maru out and dock to that cargo hold, get those people out. We’ll have to cut through the hull to get over here." He tapped the area Philip had called the seniors’ quarters. 

Beka’s eyes widened. "Are you crazy?"

"Hard suits," he said patiently.

Tyr looked at him for a long moment. Looked up at the ceiling. "Very well, I’ll go with you." 

That surprised him.

"So will I," Beka said. "You aren’t taking the Maru anywhere without me."

"Hey," Harper said angrily. "You--"

"No," Dylan said. "I know, but you can’t. I need you and Rev and Trance here, in case... there’s any trouble." He didn’t want to say more, not with Philip standing there and shivering, but there were too many damn permutations possible. God knew, the Tregozzis had fired on Andromeda; God knew, the fucking arachnoids could have gotten into the cargo hold. 

"I should go with you," Philip said earnestly. "How are you going to get the seniors out?"

"We’ll figure that out." Although privately, he thought he’d rather not. It wasn’t an option, leaving them there, though it was damned tempting. "We will, Philip. Whatever Miriam might do, we’ll find a different way."

Philip ducked his head, leaned against him. "Okay."

Beka sighed. "All right, let’s go over the rest of our possibilities."

  


* * *

Harper was not happy. Harper was, in fact, extremely unhappy, right up to the hangar bay outside the Maru. "This really pisses me off." Grimly, while watching Dylan put on a hardsuit.

Beka glanced up, gave Dylan a commiserating look, but kept her mouth shut. 

"I know." Dylan sealed the left hip joint on his suit. "I know. But if something goes wrong, I need you here." He sealed the other hip joint. "And the kids need you." 

Harper promptly swung at him.

"Whoa, whoa--" Beka was there, holding Harper’s arm. "C’mon, Seamus, back off."

"Don’t you ever fucking say something like that again," Harper hissed and jerked his arm free of Beka’s grasp.

Shocked, Dylan shook his head. "Harper--"

Harper reached, took hold of Dylan’s face and pulled him down, kissed him hard. "Don’t you ever fucking act like you’re not coming back." Still furious.

"He’s coming back, don’t worry," Beka said dryly. 

Dylan opened his mouth. Closed it. Nodded. "I am--I just meant that Philip’s already upset." Which wasn’t wholly true, but he was damned if he wanted to undertake this with Harper angry.

Harper’s scowl eased up. Slightly. 

"I’d suggest we move a little faster." Tyr suggested, and picked up his helmet. 

Dylan reached out, touched Harper’s face lightly before sliding into the rest of the hardsuit. "I’m coming back. Count on it."

Fierce look. "You’d damned well better."

He nearly smiled. Decided it was unwise. Looked at Beka, at Tyr, and nodded. "Let’s go."

  


* * *

They locked the Maru against the Falco’s cargo hold without incident, donned helmets and sealed them to the suits.

Beka’s expression, just visible inside the visor, was grim. "This part is going to be the easy bit."

Dylan snorted. "We hope. God knows if these people are armed and what they’re going to think when the lock cycles. Ready?"

"Ready." Beka’s tone was grim. "Let’s do it."

Dylan’s pulse sped a bit as the cargo door grated open, and he’d been right, weapons bristled in their direction when the hold was opened. He’d just hadn’t expected only eight adults.

The rest were children in varying sizes, and even the adults looked young, well under thirty.

Weapons were lowered all around, but cautiously. Dylan keyed his mike for external. "I’m Captain Dylan Hunt of the Andromeda Ascendant." 

One of the women stepped toward him, her expression wary. "We know who you are. I’m Sarina Tregozzi." She was holding a small child on her hip, a child younger than Lea and the child’s expression was fearful. "Have you come to help us?" 

Dylan unsealed his visor, lifted it. "Yes. Is this all of you?" Cargo pods cast shadows, and the emergency lighting wasn’t all that bright. 

"All that’s left," she said bitterly. "Except for the seniors."

"Unless someone else managed to seal the things off." This one was not more than a girl, surely, she didn’t look much older than Philip. "But I can’t get anyone on the com except the seniors. Not that they’re talking to us." 

Children. There was some relief in that, he supposed, it meant that some of the little ones had survived the destruction of the creche. If any of the adults was over twenty, he’d be astonished. He keyed the mike for internal. "Beka, we’ve got to get the kids off, we’ll have to come back to get the others."

Beka nodded. "Okay, people, let’s go, right through the lock there. Find a place to sit down and keep your hands to yourself."

Children, Dylan thought again and shook his head. "What happened to the rest of the adults?" he asked Sarina.

Her lip curled. "Except for the seniors, I think they died during the decompression. Some died trying to get the children here, to safety. We’re all that’s left."

"What did the senior officers do?"

Sarina’s lips tightened. "They sealed themselves in their level."

He tasted bile in his throat. "They did nothing to evacuate the children?"

She shook her head. "I don’t know if anyone else got to safety. A few of our cousins were heading for the escape pods."

"Rommie, did you get that?"

"Yes, Dylan, initiating a search scan." Her voice was faint in his ear.

"All right, Sarina, let’s get everyone on the Maru."

"You should let the seniors rot," she said bitterly.

If he could have lived with himself after, it would have been his first choice. "Go on, we’ll get you back to the Andromeda."

"You should," she said, but let him nudge her toward the airlock.

It was too damned tempting.

  


* * *

Cutting through the outer hull of the Falco was tricky, even with the external seal that extended from the Maru. Dylan was sweating inside his suit by the time he and Tyr had cut and hammered out a makeshift doorway. A startled Tregozzi raised her hands harmlessly when Tyr raised his weapon.

"Get the rest," Dylan ordered harshly. "And we’ll get you out of here. And no weapons or you can rot here."

The woman nodded and pressed the door control, left it open. Tyr followed, weapon still held up and ready. 

Beka took up a position near the door. "Do you think they’ll try anything stupid?"

"Anything’s possible." He looked around the room. "Rommie, I want the ship’s log. Can you and Harper guide me through downloading it?"

"Yeah, we can," Harper’s voice overrode Rommie’s. "The bad news is there is no way I want you going near the only access for downloading, which is on the bridge."

Hell and damnation. "I need that log," he told Harper. "Find me a way to get there, Harper."

"Dylan, dammit, that’s dangerous!"

"Harper, I need that log. Proof of piracy."

There was a silence. "All right. Just wait, I’ll send it over the link to your tactical display." Harper’s voice was subdued. 

"Move slowly and keep your hands up," Beka said and Dylan turned to find the Tregozzis filing into the corridor. "Behind your head, please, and follow me."

Miriam Tregozzi’s expression was furious. "We are not criminals."

"No," Dylan said harshly, "You’re pirates. Beka, we’re going to lock them in the cargo hold."

"Fine by me." 

Tyr emerged from the compartment and nodded at him. "This is all of them."

"Get them locked up and then get back here, please." Dylan’s tactical display flashed and a schematic came up, a route marked. "I need to get to the bridge and get the log."

Tyr snorted. "Naturally." He shook his head, followed Beka’s entourage back through the access tube.

Dylan studied the schematic, moved down the corridor to study the closed lock. Beyond this lock, the corridor led to one more, and then they were into the area of decompression. He pressed the control and looked through the glassteel port in the second door. A shape lay at the far end, but there was no sign of any movement, only the damned silk the arachnoids left everywhere.

Tyr finally returned, took a look through the port and made a disgusted sound. "They’ve been in that corridor."

Dylan sealed the door behind them. "Harper, send Tyr the schematic, please."

Tyr moved to one side, let Dylan reach for the control. They advanced carefully, and the shape on the floor was a cocooned body. Still technically alive, but the movement under the silk told him that the process was too far along for any hope. "Stand back," he said hoarsely and thumbed his flamethrower to life. Tyr did stand back, but added his flame to Dylan’s, swiftly charring the silk, the body and the unborn arachnoid young. 

When the flames died, Dylan opened the last lock, stepped into it and closed it behind them. The emergency lights in the decompressed section lent an eerie glow to the damage visible through the port on the second door. "Tethers," Dylan said shortly. "And be careful. Hit the AG button for your suit."

"Count on it," Tyr said softly. 

He clipped his tether to the handhold in the lock, waited for Tyr to do the same, and then opened the door. The compartment ahead looked like it had been the crew’s mess, but everything inside had been smashed against the far wall creating an enormous abstract sculpture, festooned with silk. Dylan checked the schematic, found himself glad that the exit wasn’t on that side of the room. "Watch the tables," he told Tyr softly.

Tyr nodded. They moved through with cautious speed, and interestingly, the door on the far side was _not_ an airlock. He noted that fact, filed it in the back of his mind, and went through, his nerves winding tighter and tighter the further into the ship they went. A corridor, empty except for more cocooned shapes, and, god, they had to deal with those as they went.

At least there was no atmosphere, he was breathing inside his suit, he couldn’t smell burning flesh. He remembered burning bodies on the scout ship, tried not to think about it. He had to stay focused.

"Dylan?" Tyr’s voice was soft in his ear. 

"Let’s go," he said, realizing that he stood in front of another sealed door. The bridge lay beyond. Almost there, almost there, and they could download, upload, whatever the hell worked, and get off this ghost ship. 

The door opened. The emergency lights weren’t all working on the bridge, which made his skin crawl inside the suit. "We’re here," he told the Andromeda. "If I can get the commlink working, I can upload directly and we can get out of here."

"Check the main circuit on the board," Harper said softly. "If it’s damaged, you can take one from navigation and replace it."

"Right." He could hear Tyr breathing in his ear, a little too fast. Somehow, that was mildly reassuring, to know that the bodies and darkness were working on Tyr as well.

The circuit was, indeed, damaged. He moved carefully across the bridge to what appeared to be a navigation station, pulled out a board and found an undamaged circuit. It wasn’t easy, replacing the damaged one with the gloves on, but he managed while Tyr paced behind him.

He slid the comm board back into place. "All right, it’s in, test it, see if you can hack into the log."

"Links up," Harper said. "Let me see if I can get in now."

He waited, watching the shadows, feeling his skin twitch. 

"Got it, Dylan, get the _hell_ out of there." Harper’s voice was strained. "Move it."

"On the way." Dylan moved, felt his adrenaline spike when he caught movement from the corner of one eye.

"Dylan," Tyr shouted and fired his flamethrower.

Turning, Dylan fired his own, but the horror that rose up from behind the captain’s chair wasn’t what he expected. It was too damn big, bigger than he remembered, bigger than he’d ever seen. "Go!" he said and fired again, but Tyr took hold of him, swept him out of the way of fangs that came down.

He fell back against the console, Tyr fired his force lance, and the arachnoid fell back, missing a few legs. God. God. He yanked at Tyr’s tether and started to fall back toward the door. Tyr kept firing, and he managed to back him up with the flamethrower, keeping the thing off balance.

The corridor was full of the smaller ones. Hard suit or not, he felt the adrenaline rush, the edge of panic sharpened by memories almost twenty years old. Hard suits, he reminded himself and flooded the corridor ahead with flame as Tyr pushed him into it. The door closed too goddamn slowly, but it closed, and he kept moving, kept firing.

The mess was alive with them; he stepped on a smaller one, wondered distantly if there were any others as large as the one on the bridge and kept firing. The tactical display showed that the damn thing was almost out of power, and somehow, it was going to be hard to target the things with a force lance, as small and fast as they were.

And as tenacious. They were climbing his legs, and Tyr’s, and he ignored that, turned and fired again. They were only halfway across the mess when sharp agony stabbed through his knee; he looked down, appalled, and realized that the goddamn joint seals weren’t impervious to the things.

"Get them off your suit," he gasped. "Dammit, they can get through the seals at the joints."

Tyr swore savagely, flamed his own legs and boots, and then Dylan’s. He kept moving, but his leg was on fire, Tyr finally just dragged him along and slammed his fist on the control to seal the door. Dylan put his hand out to steady himself, fired forward down the corridor, and there was more pain at his shoulder.

Tyr cursed again, hammered at him. "Go." Harshly.

He reeled forward, using the tether to keep himself moving. Two bites, he told himself, Lea had survived four, although he’d seen grown men die of five. He was fine, he was going to make it, and suddenly Tyr was holding him up, firing back the way they’d come. 

He reached for the airlock control.

"No, not yet!" Tyr shook at him, fired again and again, and Dylan’s vision narrowed down to the control panel. "Now!"

He hit the control, the first lock door opened, and Tyr pushed him inside, still firing. His arm and shoulder felt like his leg, white hot and burning, and he remembered, god, he remembered things he didn’t want to think about, and there was sweat dripping into his eyes, he could barely see.

Tyr’s breathing was too loud. "Dylan!"

"I’m fine," he rasped, "Let’s go."

The corridor beyond the airlock was clear, miraculously. Tyr wedged his shoulder beneath Dylan’s arm and half-dragged him to the next airlock. Unfortunately, it was the injured arm, Dylan greyed out, missed the second airlock completely.

Beka met them just outside the temporary access tube. Dylan was distantly aware of her voice, but couldn’t make out the words. The world kept shifting, and suddenly he was on the Maru, lying on his back with Tyr wrestling to get his helmet off. 

"Shit!" Beka sounded frantic. "Take the helm, get us back _now_ , Tyr. He’s in shock."

He didn’t feel like he was in shock, he felt like he was fucking dying, but that was only because it was getting hard to breathe; it felt as if his throat had closed to a pinhole.

Something cold pressed against his neck, stung; he made a sound in his throat, tried to focus.

"Dylan, you’re having one _hell_ of an allergic reaction." Beka’s voice was distant. "Stay with me here."

The cold sting again on his neck and it was a little easier to breathe, a little easier to see. He tried to reach up, but Beka put something over his mouth and nose. God, even easier, and he let his eyes close.

"Stay with me, dammit!" Beka sounded frantic now; he felt a glove come off, and Beka’s hand gripped his. "Don’t you _dare_ make me tell Harper I couldn’t bring you back in one piece."

He opened his eyes and squeezed her fingers, tried to nod. "Not going anywhere," he tried to say, but wasn’t sure the words made it all the way out.

Something did. Her expression eased. Closing his eyes, he kept hold of her hand, even when the pain made him grey out again....

  


* * *

Harper left Rev in the pilot’s chair, and arrived at the hangar bay door just as the bay was re-pressurizing. He watched the panel impatiently, nodded acknowledgement to Rommie when she arrived with an AG lift; the instant the light went green, he pressed the control, waited long enough to slip through the open door and ran for the Maru. 

The hatch opened and the ramp came down; he was aboard before Rommie reached it, and ran smack into Beka. 

"He’s doing better," Beka said sharply and grabbed him. "Where’s Rommie?"

"Behind me," he snarled and broke free. Dylan was lying on Beka’s bunk in his skivvies, eyes closed; Harper sank to his knees, touched Dylan’s face and Dylan turned his head, peered through swollen eyelids. 

"Hey." Rustily. 

He took hold of Dylan’s hand. "I’m gonna kick your ass."

Dylan winced. "Suit worked, seals didn’t. Got me there."

"Okay, I won’t kick your ass." There wasn’t much strength in the fingers that wrapped around his own. 

"Thanks." Dylan’s eyes closed briefly, and then Rommie was there with Beka and Tyr. Rommie and Tyr got Dylan on the AG lift. 

Harper’s immediate terror eased, but, god, Dylan’s leg was swollen and livid, Dylan’s other arm was swollen and Harper’s heart felt like it was banging on his ribs.

Rommie pressed an injector to Dylan’s neck and Dylan shuddered. Snatching up a blanket, Harper spread it over Dylan and Beka nodded grimly, pulled it across.

"You probably saved his life, Beka," Rommie murmured, and then they were moving.

"What about our _guests_ ," Tyr asked dryly.

"Let ‘em wait," Beka snapped. "I’m in no mood to deal with them right now."

"Where are they?" Harper asked, but his eyes were on Dylan. 

"Cargo hold." Tyr sounded almost amused.

He’d kill Tyr later, Harper decided. Once he knew for certain Dylan was going to be okay.

Trance, of course, was still on med-deck, dealing with the kids from the Falco; she left them to the med-droids when Dylan arrived. Beka took hold of Harper to get him out of the way; he squeezed Dylan’s good hand lightly and let go. "Trance?"

"He’s going to be fine," Trance said absently, running a scanner over Dylan. "Trust me on that, Harper."

He had to. There wasn’t a lot of choice. But once they had Dylan on the bed, he broke free of Beka’s grasp and took Dylan’s hand again, as if it did some good. Maybe it did. Dylan squeezed his hand again. "‘S fine, Seamus, only two." Just above a whisper.

"Two what?" Harper leaned over, touched Dylan’s face with his other hand.

"Two bites," Rommie said absently. "One behind his knee and one here." She pointed at Dylan’s shoulder and Trance gave Dylan another injection. 

Rommie murmured something inaudible to Trance, who nodded and touched Dylan’s cheek. "Dylan, I’m going to give you a neural block."

"No!" Harper clutched Dylan’s hand. "Those things--don’t do that to him."

"‘S okay," Dylan said hoarsely. "Hurts like hell."

Harper shuddered, remembering his own experience of a neural block. "Dylan, are you sure?"

"...be fine," Dylan husked.

"Harper, I’m only going to give him local blocks." Trance gave him a long, serious look. "He’s just coming out of anaphylactic shock, I don’t want to risk anything that might depress his respiratory system."

He felt relief and embarrassment in equal measures. "Okay, good, good."

Dylan’s eyes closed again briefly, but opened when Rommie and Trance started to shift him. "Wait," he said and his fingers tightened on Harper’s. "...just... give me a minute."

Harper nodded. "Yeah, no problem." He held Trance’s gaze for a moment. "We’ll wait until you’re ready."

Dylan closed his eyes and his jaw clenched; he nodded fractionally and they rolled him to his side. o sound, but a muscle jumped in Dylan’s jaw; Harper held on. "Easy, easy, almost there--" Watched Dylan’s face and listened for the hiss of the injector. Twice.

He could see the instant the blocks took effect, Dylan’s jaw relaxed and the lines around his mouth eased up. 

"Better?" he asked softly.

Dylan’s eyes opened again. "Yeah." Faintly. "A lot."

He used his other hand on Dylan’s hair, got the ghost of a smile. "‘M okay now."

Harper shook his head. "Not yet. But you will be."

"Promised you, didn’t I?" Blearily.

That put a lump the size of a small asteroid into Harper’s throat. "You just need to get a little faster."

Dylan’s eyes were heavy-lidded. "Never saw one that big."

Harper wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know, so he just kept petting Dylan’s hair, trying not to see what Rommie and Trance were doing. Dylan’s fingers loosened gradually, which was okay, but he looked at Trance. "Is it okay if he crashes?" Whispering.

"Pretty natural," Trance whispered back. 

He nodded, leaned down and kissed Dylan’s temple. Another ragged breath, and Dylan’s eyes closed, his fingers went lax. He didn’t stop petting Dylan’s hair, though, and he didn’t let go of Dylan’s hand. 

He wasn’t going to, either.

  


* * *

"We put ‘em in the brig," Beka said, sounding grimly satisfied. "How are the kids doing?"

"Trance says they’re not in bad shape for no food and only a little water for the last few days." Harper scowled, thinking of Miriam Fucking Tregozzi living large in her fucking safe quarters while little kids went hungry and thirsty.

Beka put an arm around his shoulders, hugged him. "Dylan’s going to be fine, you know that."

"Yeah, but if somebody was going to get bitten by those things, I’d rather it was one of those assholes in the brig." Harper glanced over where Dylan lay, still totally out. They’d gotten the venom out of his blood stream, but it had done a little damage while it was in there. Nothing permanent, Trance swore, just some cellular damage here and there, most of it close to the bite itself; Dylan’s leg and shoulder and arm and back had gone an interesting rainbow of hues ranging from almost black near the bites, to streaky livid pink. "I just wish he’d wake up."

Beka hugged again. "Hey, Seamus, you know that anaphylactic shock takes it out of you, and of course, so does the stuff we pumped into him to counteract that." She blew out a breath, rubbed her eyes with her free hand. "Scared the hell out of me, I don’t mind admitting."

"Thanks." Harper looked up at her. "I mean it, Beka."

Beka smiled and let go of him. "I think I’ll let the Tregozzis sweat until Dylan’s up to dealing with them. We got that log?"

"Yup." Harper blinked. "Rommie, I need to check on Lea, will you tell me if Dylan wakes up?"

Rommie’s image appeared in sick bay. "Of course, Harper."

He nodded, looked up at Beka again. "So, we keeping the other kids in med-deck?"

Beka nodded. "Probably easiest, at least until Dylan decides what we’re going to do with them. Besides, half of ‘em are sacked out anyway."

Harper nodded again, clenched his jaw. "Let the Tregozzis go a little hungry and thirsty, Beka."

"Count on it." She glanced over at Dylan again, her eyes shadowed. "You know, Harper, it was really Tyr--he got him back to the Maru."

"I’ll be grateful later," Harper muttered, which wasn’t fair, but he wasn’t up to thanking Tyr. Yet. Not when Tyr had come through unscathed.

Philip and Lea were on the obs deck. Lea was playing on the floor with her toys and Philip was sitting on the bench, just watching her, his expression somber.

"He’s okay, Philip," Harper said softly and Philip’s head turned sharply. "You can go have a look, but don’t wake him up." He sat down next to Philip, patted his shoulder. "Only two of them got through the seals on his suit, and the worst thing was that he had an allergic reaction to the venom. Guess since he got bitten before, a long time ago."

Lea looked up, eyes wide. "Bad bitey things got Dylan?" Fearful little voice.

"He’s okay, Lea mia." He held out his arms and she got up and ran to him. Put her face in his shirt. "Honest. Why don’t we all go and see him. You have to be quiet, though, he needs to sleep right now."

Lea leaned back, put a finger in her mouth. Nodded at him forlornly.

"He’s really all right?" Philip’s eyes were too bright. 

"Well, he’s gonna be." Harper took in a deep breath. "Right now he’s out for the count, and when he wakes up, he’s probably going to be really, really cranky because he’s going to be hurting some. But yeah, basically, he’s all right."

Philip ducked his head, swiped at his eyes with his sleeve. "Good." Hoarsely.

Harper smiled a little. "Okay, let’s go. We’ll take a look in at him and we’ll all feel better." Lea climbed up into his lap; he shifted her and stood up. "Come on, Philip." Gently.

"I don’t want to wake him up." Philip’s voice was faint.

"We won’t." Harper waited, offered a smile he hoped was reassuring. "Come on, kid, you need some good news for a change."

Philip’s mouth trembled slightly and he ducked his head again; it took a moment, but he got up, swiped at his eyes again. "Can I see the others?"

"Not the seniors, but yeah, you can see everybody else." Sure, Beka was first officer, but hell if he couldn’t convince her. Hell if he wouldn’t. He was going to stick by Philip, though, he didn’t want all their work with the kid undone by somebody too well brainwashed by Miriam Fucking Tregozzi. 

Once they got back to med-deck, though, Dylan was muzzily awake and arguing with Trance. "....got to deal with them," he insisted.

"Not a chance," Harper said loudly. "You don’t _move_ from that bed unless you want your chief engineer to come up with the newest developments in modern bondage gear."

Trance giggled and made herself scarce.

"Dylan!" Lea held out her arms. Harper glanced at Philip, nudged him toward the bed.

"Are you all right?" Philip’s voice was shaky.

Dylan eyed Harper owlishly. "I’m fine."

Harper snorted. 

Philip edged closer and Dylan held out an arm. "Don’t listen to him, Philip, I’m just a little under the weather." Scowling at Harper.

That reassurance got Dylan a careful, if embarrassed, hug, and Philip ducked his head again when he drew back. "I, um, was worried."

"Me, too!" Lea bounced. "Abba, I want to give Dylan a hug."

"You have to be very careful," Harper told her and moved toward the bed. "Dylan got hurt."

"Dylan, do you have hurty places?" Lea’s voice was almost tender. "I will be careful, I promise."

Harper rolled his eyes. "You’d better be, midget." He set her carefully on the edge of the bed. "This leg is hurt," he told her, pointing to Dylan’s kneecap, "and this shoulder. So no grabbing."

Lea leaned up carefully, oblivious of Dylan’s renewed scowl and put a hand on either side of Dylan’s face. "You has to be careful, Dylan," she told him earnestly. "I was scared! The bad bitey things are sooooo bad. And hurty."

Dylan’s scowl vanished. "I know, minx. But I had to get everybody off so nobody else would get hurt."

She gave him a smacking kiss on his cheek. "You be more careful." Firmly. "Or Abba will spank you."

Dylan’s mouth quirked. "I’ll remember."

"You’d better," Harper said softly. 

This time, there wasn’t a scowl; Dylan reached out, and laced their fingers together. "I promise." Still a little muzzy. "Are the other kids okay?"

"Yeah, they are. You want ‘em locked up?"

Dylan sighed, knuckled his eyes with his free hand. "I hate doing that. But for the moment... not the brig." 

"Nah, Beka’s got them on the other side of med-deck. Lots to eat and drink and showers and clean clothes." Harper rubbed his thumb over Dylan’s knuckles. "The, uh, seniors are in the brig."

Dylan’s jaw tightened. "Good." He blinked, let his head fall back. "We got the log?"

"Every bit of it. Tyr wants to blow the ship, but Beka said to chill until she could talk to you."

Dylan’s mouth quirked a little bit. "That’s my first officer."

"Damn straight." Harper leaned in, kissed Dylan’s mouth gently. "Don’t make us put you in restraints, okay?"

"Listen to you." Dylan’s eyelids were heavy. "God, I’m tired."

"You go to sleep," Lea told him firmly.

Philip laughed shakily. "You tell him, Lea."

Harper grinned. "Amen to that."

Dylan sighed. "Okay. Okay. Okay." Managed a weary smile. "As long as I get visitors regularly."

"Every hour on the hour." Harper leaned in again, kissed Dylan’s temple. "Or maybe even more often."

"Promises, promises." 

Harper lifted Lea. "You’ve got that right." Dryly. And the look he got in return rewarded him, even if Dylan’s eyes were closed before he got the kids to the med-deck door.

  


* * *

Dylan woke abruptly with a gasp, the fragments of nightmare fading even as he opened his eyes. Harper was there almost immediately, holding a bottle of cold water for him.

"Just a dream," Harper murmured and touched his cheek. "Thirsty?"

"Parched." He took the bottle and drank his fill, pushed himself up a little. "God."

Harper rubbed his good leg through the blanket. "Yeah." Mildly.

Dylan smiled a little, let his head fall back on the cushion. "Still planning on kicking my ass?" 

Harper hoisted himself to sit carefully on the edge of the bed. "I’m planning on doing _something_ to your ass."

His arm and leg ached dully, but the worst was past. Raising the arm, he tried to form a fist, found that the muscles weren’t as weak as he’d feared, even though flexing sent a spike of pain right up to the base of his neck.

"Stop that," Harper said firmly and took hold of his loosely fisted hand, massaged Dylan’s forearm gently. "You’ve got plenty of time to get tough again, Dylan."

"Again?" Dylan laughed weakly. "When was I tough to begin with?"

"Moron." Harper’s smile was so... affectionate.

He blinked hard. Sure, it was partly feeling weak and partly being in pain, and partly being so goddamned relieved that Beka had one good head on her shoulders and a quick grasp of medical emergencies, but damn, he felt shaky. 

Harper leaned close, kissed his mouth gently. "The kids are _all_ okay, Dylan."

And maybe that was part of it. "Not all of them," he said hoarsely. "Some of the bodies we burned--"

Harper’s hands cupped his face. "Don’t. Don’t look back at it. This is not your fault, it’s Miriam Fucking Tregozzi's."

"No, this isn’t her fault either." Dylan swallowed hard. "She’s a bitch, but--"

"No. The kids being dead is her fault." Harper’s face was stern, unyielding. "Dylan, when those things got on board--people died getting the survivors to the cargo hold while the seniors just sealed up their deck and let them die."

Dear god. He closed his eyes briefly. "What’s in the log?"

"Piracy, among other things." Clipped voice.

He’d never seen Harper’s face so hard. He’d seen him ferally angry, vengeful, and enraged, and he’d never seen this cold fury. It stirred his own rage. "Damn her soul."

"Already there, Dylan." Harper’s expression softened fractionally. "And no, you’re not going to deal with her yet. That bitch can cool her heels in a holding cell until you’re on your feet again." 

"Are they behaving themselves?" He wiped his eyes with the edge of his hand.

"So far." Harper kissed him again.

"Tell Beka if there’s so much as a twitch, I’m authorizing lethal force."

Harper sighed against his mouth. "Dylan, I’m not disagreeing, but--"

"I mean it." His vision blurred again. "No chances, any of you."

Harper hugged him gently. "Okay." Softly. "Dylan, don’t think about it, don’t look back there."

He wrapped one arm around Harper. "Yeah. I’m okay. Just got the shakes. What time is it?"

"Middle of the night, our shift." Harper carded Dylan’s hair with his fingers. "The munchkin and Philip crashed out."

The feel of muscle and bone against him eased the shakes. He was getting revoltingly needy, he supposed, but the thought didn’t stop him from turning his head to kiss Harper’s jaw. "I don’t suppose I could talk you into helping me break out of med-deck."

Harper huffed in his ear. "Not. A. Chance."

"I’d sleep better," he muttered, giving it a try anyway.

Harper carded his hair again. "I’m not going anywhere." Obliquely.

He couldn’t help smiling at that, even though he had to let go, lean back against the cushion again. " _You’d_ sleep better."

Harper smirked. "Hmmmm, you have a point. But is that a good idea? Think about getting there."

He wondered how successful he’d be if he tried one of Harper’s soulful expressions. "Worst comes to worst, I could use an AG lift."

Long look, and Harper’s mouth twitched. "Trance will kill me if I aid and abet."

"I’m still the captain, I won’t let her." God, he’d won this one. It was hard to keep from just grinning.

"No complaining you can’t get comfortable," Harper grumbled. "I can’t believe I’m doing this. I must be insane."

This time he did try a soulful expression.

Harper covered his eyes. "Stop that."

"What?" 

"Looking at me like that." Harper slid off the bed grumbling. "Rommie, Dylan wants out of med-deck."

There was a moment of silence before Rommie’s image appeared. She regarded Dylan with a resigned expression. "Only if you agree to get some rest."

"That’s a given." Dylan agreed.

Harper rolled his eyes. "Stubborn, isn’t he?"

Rommie arched an eyebrow, and vanished.

Getting back to his quarters was comfortable and hardly exertion, but once Dylan settled into his own bed, he was exhausted again. 

Harper, predictably, snarked at him about that. "You could have stayed on med-deck, but oh, nooooo, you’ve got to wear yourself out getting back here."

Dylan made a gesture practically universal among all the human races.

Harper’s mouth twitched at that, and he went to fetch a bottle of cold water while Dylan settled back against the pillows. "There’s something really weird about seeing you do that," Harper said, upon his return, "Drink that. Trance said lots of fluids."

"What’s weird about it?" Dylan drank, put the bottle on the table beside the bed.

"You’re Captain Terrific, you’re usually a lot more polite." Harper did grin, then, leaned in and kissed the tip of Dylan’s nose. "A _lot_ more polite."

"I’m practicing for dealing with the Tregozzi," Dylan said dryly.

"I’d suggest physical violence," Harper growled, and it was obvious he wasn’t kidding.

Since that was his own instinctive reaction, Dylan remained silent. "We’ll see. I’m turning them over to the relevant authorities once I’ve gone though the log. Preferably the relevant authorities with the strictest legal processes."

"Like boiling in oil?" Harper smiled grimly, sat down on the edge of the bed and kicked off his boots. 

Dylan watched him undress, unable not to, even in his current condition. They might be getting domestic, to a certain degree, but Harper undressed was still the best damn thing to look at. 

"Don’t _even_ look at me like that," Harper said, catching him at it. "You aren’t up to anything, and neither am I."

"It’s aesthetic appreciation," Dylan muttered, a little embarrassed. "I _do_ think about other things than jumping your bones."

Harper grinned. "That’s a waste of time," he said, as contrary as always. "Just kidding, just kidding, don’t get mad." He climbed into bed, wound himself carefully around Dylan from behind. "Good thing about this is that I can stop your nightmares before they start." A warm kiss behind Dylan’s ear. "I mean, aside from the fact that I just like wrapping myself around you. Miles and miles, and it’s all mine."

Dylan smiled, suddenly drowsy. "I like it," he murmured. "You wrapped around me." 

That earned him another kiss. "Don’t think about the Tregozzis, Dylan. Just think about the kids who are alive and Lea and Philip and yours truly and making it back alive."

That made him smile again and he put a hand over the hand that rested on his belly. "Yeah. Best stuff."

"That’s right." 

The light went out, and Harper nuzzled, and that was the last thing Dylan remembered.

  


* * *

Dylan was still asleep when the chron alarm went off; Harper slapped it off before Dylan woke, and rolled out of bed, yawning. Philip had slept on a cot in Lea’s rooms because Harper was going to be on med-deck; Harper pulled on his pants and went next door, crouched near the cot and touched Philip’s shoulder lightly.

Philip’s eyes opened and Harper put a finger to his lips. "He talked Rommie into letting him out of medical," Harper said softly. "If you want to get some more sleep, go ahead, but when Lea wakes up, I’ll get her. You want to go back to your own quarters?"

Philip raised his head, blinked at Harper sleepily. "Is he all right?" A whisper.

"Lots better." Harper ruffled Philip’s hair. "Lots and lots of lovely nanobots undoing the damage."

Philip nodded, rubbed his eyes like a kid. "Yeah, I think I will. But when he wakes up, may I see him?"

"Count on it, kid," Harper whispered. 

He did have Philip take a quick look at Dylan, just for reassurance, before sending him off to his own quarters; Lea was still soundly asleep, her finger tucked in her mouth, so Harper climbed back in bed with Dylan. Lifting the blankets, checked Dylan’s back and shoulder, found that the rainbow aspect was fading as the ‘bots did their good deed. Since Rommie was undoubtedly monitoring Dylan’s vitals, the silence was a good thing; he stretched out beside Dylan and pulled the covers over both of them, closed his eyes and thanked whatever benevolent deities might exist. 

He’d have to thank Tyr, too, he supposed, but he wasn’t going to rush into it. For one thing, Tyr was touchy about any behavior that didn’t fit Nietzschean mores; for another, it just irritated him to have to thank Tyr for anything.

Dylan made a muffled sound and twitched, so Harper leaned in, kissed the nape of Dylan’s neck. The twitching subsided, but Dylan rolled slightly, peered at him. Puffy eyelids still, the result of the venom, Harper supposed, so he kissed them, and got what was very nearly a contented sigh as a reward. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." Dylan yawned, blinked at him, then gave him one of those beautiful goddamn smiles. "Hungry."

That smile, god, it never failed to turn his bones to water. He leaned in, kissed Dylan’s mouth lightly. "I can handle that," he told Dylan. "Coffee, too?"

"Oh, yeah. That sounds fabulous." Dylan rolled all the way over, raised his arm and flexed it. Winced, just a little. "Not bad, really. Just achy."

"It’s not quite as technicolor," Harper said dryly and shook his head when Dylan arched an eyebrow. "Forget it, another obsolete reference."

"And you aren’t going to tell me about it." Dylan grinned.

"Maybe later." Harper got out of bed again, went rummaging for something to eat. Meat pastries, which he’d taught Dylan to enjoy, and while they were warming up, he made coffee, brought Dylan some juice and stole a kiss while he was there.

"Stay," Dylan said, not quite whining.

Harper grinned. "In a minute. Let me get you something to eat first." He needed that coffee more than Dylan, he suspected, but it might be a close thing. It only took a few more minutes, and then he came back to bed with enough for both of them on a tray. 

Dylan pushed himself upright--not without another wince--and took the mug with both hands. Inhaled reverently before taking a sip.

Harper sat cross-legged on his side of the bed, snagged a meat pastry from the tray across Dylan’s leg.

"You really are going to spoil me," Dylan told him.

Harper considered that. "Okay." Easily.

Dylan grinned. "Not that I’m complaining. Where’s the minx?"

"Still asleep." Harper lifted his chin in the direction of the comm link to Lea’s room. "She was unsettled last night because Philip was paying attention to some of his cousins." He rolled his eyes. "Little Miss Jealousy. She was telling them they couldn’t call him Pip. They had to call him Philip, because that’s what he wanted them to call him."

Dylan laughed softly. "My argument to her."

"Boy, when she’s irritated, she makes me look sweet-tempered." Harper rolled his eyes again.

"You _are_ sweet-tempered." Dylan grinned. "Ordinarily."

"You really _are_ nuts." But Harper felt his face get warm. "How’s the leg today?"

"Not too bad." Dylan grimaced, took a bite of pastry. "A little worse than the arm. More venom, probably. But I’ll manage. I want to talk to our, ah, less willing guests." 

"Then I have a suggestion. Have them brought to you, not vice versa. Don’t let them know you got hurt." Harper reached out, closed his fingers over Dylan’s wrist. "I mean it. I know their kind, Dylan."

Dylan looked at him, frowned. "Good point. The security office on B Deck will work."

Pleased, Harper nodded. "Yeah."

"But first I’m going to talk to the willing guests." Dylan sighed. "I wonder what the _hell_ we’re going to do with them."

Harper shrugged. "Benaja might have some ideas."

"Let’s hope." Dylan took another sip from his mug. "Maybe you’re right. I _am_ insane. I feel responsible for those kids."

"Yeah, but you feel responsible for the fall of the Commonwealth," Harper told him tartly. "Rommie’s monitoring them, though, and they seem all right, mostly. A couple of the older ones are iffy, but the rest don’t have any love for their senior officers. Philip’s keeping an eye and ear on them, and since he’s adopted you as his dad, he’s pretty serious about it."

Dylan’s expression softened. "Good for him." He took a last bite of pastry and leaned back to savor his coffee. "Shower, shave, and then the kids."

"Abba, come get me!" Lea’s voice came through the comm. "Philip’s all gone, Abba."

Harper grinned, got off the bed and went to fetch her. As he’d suspected, she was standing right below the comm, her eyes on the door, Pali clutched against her chest. "Hey, Lea mia, you ready to say good morning to Dylan?"

Her eyes widened. "Yes. Is Trance taking care of him."

"He’s in his own bed," Harper told her and lifted her up. "He was feeling better when he woke up last night."

"Where’s Philip?" she wanted to know.

"I let him go back to his own room and get some sleep," Harper told her. "Because I knew you’d be up and then he wouldn’t be able to sleep any more."

That got him a reproachful look, but before Lea could complain, she caught sight of Dylan and just fucking beamed. "Dylan!"

Dylan laughed. "Good morning, minx."

"You not so sick now?" Lea regarded Dylan happily.

"I’m not so sick now," Dylan agreed and winked at Harper. 

Harper held on to Lea once they were at Dylan’s bedside. "You listen, Lea, I know Dylan is better, but no bouncing. You give him a nice hug, and be careful."

"I will." Plaintively. "I won’t hurt."

"Good, just remember." Harper kissed her forehead and set her carefully beside Dylan. 

She patted Dylan’s face worriedly. "You really okay now?"

"Pretty much, minx." Dylan shifted the tray, put Lea in his lap. "Just a little sore." His voice was soft, and when he glanced at Harper, Harper saw shadows in his eyes.

He’d had a few shadows himself, seeing the results of the venom and imagining a baby and a boy suffering the same. Leaning in, he kissed Dylan’s temple and sat down beside him. "You okay?"

"I’m good." Dylan smiled again and the shadows receded, at least. "All things considered, pretty damn good."

Harper was inclined to agree. 

  


* * *

A shower worked a minor miracle, and Dylan emerged clean, energized and limping a little. That got a long look from Harper, who thereupon provided him a cane and growled at Dylan to forestall protest.

He wouldn’t have protested. Not only did it help, but it was hard to resist Harper when he was being fierce. He still had memories of when he’d been ill a few years ago; there was nothing fond about the memories of actually being ill, but Harper in fierce and protective mode was alarmingly attractive and endearing.

"You be careful," Lea told him firmly, eyeing him. "Your leg is still hurty."

"Only a little bit, minx," he told her, amused. "I’ll be very careful. If I didn’t, I’d hate to think what Abba would say to me."

"Just keep remembering that," Harper growled and scooped Lea up. "I’m going to turn her over to Trance. I’ll meet you on med-deck. You are _not_ going to B deck without me."

He couldn’t help laughing. "I _think_ I’m still the captain of this ship."

"Among other things," Harper conceded and gave him a long look.

"I’m not going to B deck without you." Dylan leaned in and kissed Harper’s mouth. "Take it easy."

Fierce look. "Not on your life. Not with that b--um, witch aboard."

"I’ll see you on med-deck," Dylan said, laughing again.

First, though, he was going to talk to Philip. Philip was still asleep, wrapped in a blanket like a mummy. Dylan sat down on the edge of the bed, tried not to think about the fact that Lea and Philip had both endured more pain than he had, back on Chi station. Philip’s hair was getting long, and he found himself brushing it back from Philip’s forehead, smiled when Philip’s eyelids fluttered and then opened.

"Good morning," he said softly. "I just wanted to see how you were doing before I talk to the others."

Philip sat up and promptly hugged him hard. "I’m okay." Muffled voice.

He hugged back. "Not too upsetting, seeing your kin again?"

Philip drew back, shook his head. "Not too upsetting. Most of them are good people." His gaze faltered a little. "Well, um, the juniors and the littles, at least."

"None of the seniors?" Dylan needed to know. 

Philip looked unhappy. "Not now. Benaja said it was different when he was my age, before my grandmother became captain."

Dylan nodded, hugged him again. "I’m sorry we couldn’t save more of them, Philip. But the rest were already--" He swallowed hard, unable to find words that wouldn’t bring too much of the horror home to Philip.

Philip nodded, "I know you would have, if you could have." 

Trust. God. He hugged Philip again. "Well, you go back to sleep for a while. It’s been an eventful twenty-four hours." Touched Philip’s cheek lightly. "I’ll catch up with you after I get things in order. I need you to fill me in on everyone."

Long, thoughtful look. "I’ll do my best, Dylan. What are you going to do with them?"

"With the juniors and the littles--" Dylan smiled faintly. "I don’t have any idea. With the seniors--I’m turning them over to the relevant authorities as soon as I figure out which authorities will want them."

Philip nodded unhappily. "Harper said." He looked away, biting his lip.

"He knows me pretty well." Philip’s unhappiness worried him. "Philip, this isn’t for you to worry about. I want to hear whatever you can tell me, but ultimately, I have decisions to make about the seniors."

"I don’t care so much about them." Philip’s mouth trembled a little. "My mother’s dead."

Dear god, how could he have forgotten that? "Oh, Philip." He held the boy for a moment. "I’m sorry. I’m so goddamned sorry."

Philip nodded, or tried to with his forehead on Dylan’s shoulder. "Nina said that she was trying to help them get the littles to the cargo hold." Shaky voice.

Dylan closed his eyes. "I believe it. Your mother followed a lot of what your grandmother ordered, but she cared about you and she cared about Lea." He didn’t know what else to say. He hadn’t liked Sabra, but he’d respected her to a certain degree, even if he had once wished he could throttle her. Still, she had been Philip’s mother, the only parent he’d known. "I’m so sorry, Philip." He felt useless, inadequate. 

"I was so scared you were going to die, too." A whisper.

"I’m pretty hard to kill." He whispered, too. "Just ask Beka."

Shaky laughter. "I will."

Another hug, and Dylan released him, rubbed his thumb over an eyebrow so like his own. "Go back to sleep. I need to deal with things before I crash again."

Philip nodded, and he looked less... unhappy. "Okay. Harper should get more rest, too."

Dylan grinned. "Ah. I’ll tell him." He touched the tip of Philip’s nose. "I count on you to keep me up to date on these things."

Shy smile and Philip lay down again, pulled his blanket up.

Dylan suspected that the boy was already halfway back to sleep before the door closed behind him.

  


* * *

Dylan was already on med-deck when Harper arrived; he leaned against the doorframe and watched Dylan talk seriously with the eight Tregozzis who might be considered, however generously, to be adults. Hell, maybe it was a sign _he_ was getting older, they all looked like kids to him.

Of the women, Sarina Tregozzi was the eldest, at twenty-five. Fari was twenty-two, Maris nineteen, Briony nineteen, and Reva seventeen. Of the young men, Tomas was twenty-one, Dom twenty and Josef eighteen. If, that is, the ages given were to be believed; given Philip’s exaggeration of his age, Harper wondered.

The rest were really little kids, ranging from just under two years to eleven. Harper hadn’t been able to sort out all the names yet--twelve kids, god, and what in hell were they going to do with all of them anyway?

Recruiting the older ones was a possibility, depending on a lot of factors, but the littles? On the other hand, even the littles worked, according to Philip.

Genetically, Philip had to be a throwback. Neither Sabra or Fatima had shown any resemblance to Dylan in character or looks, but Philip, Harper reckoned, was going to look a lot like a Hunt when he finished growing up. Briony’s eyes were green, but they were shaped like Dylan’s, even though her coloring was fairer. Tomas had the chin and jawline and it was fucking weird that after six generations, Dylan just kept popping out, genetically speaking. 

"Harper?" Dylan was looking at him and had been talking to him, he suddenly realized, for a few minutes.

"Sorry," he said and walked over to sit down on the arm of Dylan’s chair. "Just thinking."

Dylan arched an eyebrow. "Can you have Rommie clear out some crew quarters for our guests?"

"Yeah, we’ve got some that haven’t been stripped," Harper said. "I’ll make sure there’s power and all the luxuries of home." He eyed Dylan. "Security and everything."

Dylan’s gaze was innocent. "Good."

One of the littlest littles toddled up and leaned on Sarina’s knee. Harper couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl, but he/she stared up at Dylan in amazement and pointed before babbling something in Chari. 

Sarina flushed a little, laughed. "He likes your uniform buckles."

Dylan blinked, nodded. "Ah, yes. I’ll have Rommie escort you to quarters when they’re ready. And when we can, we’ll get you to Karna Prime and see if Benaja has any good ideas."

Sarina’s smile faded a bit. "Thank you. What about the Falco?"

"The Falco is gone, Sarina." Dylan’s mouth tightened. "There’s no possible way of cleaning out that infestation. And I want to know how those things got on board the Falco. The one on the bridge was an adult, obviously, and I’ve never _seen_ an adult in space. The eggs drift and latch on, and hatch, but the theory was that the adults spawned in space and then settled on a planet."

The eight exchanged looks, but expressions differed. 

"I’ll tell you," Tomas said grimly. "There’s no need for secrets now."

"Tomas," Fari whispered, "Don’t--"

"No, he’s right," Sarina said and gestured. "Tell him the truth."

Dylan glanced at Harper again, his face unrevealing. "By all means." Coolly.

Tomas nodded. "The captain took one from Chi station. Kept it in a cargo hold. I don’t think anyone knew, not for a long while, but--" His expression shifted to sorrowful and he looked away for a moment. "But my cousin Kerr told me after it had broken free of the hold, while we were trying to get the littles from the creche. Kerr, Dylan and Sabra gave us time to get to the other hold and seal ourselves in. He didn’t make it."

Dylan’s face might have been carved in stone. "Kerr was one of the seniors?"

Tomas shook his head. Fari was weeping silently. "No." Hoarsely. "But his father is. I don’t know why she did it, but I wish they’d all died, too."

Harper felt queasy. "Did they _all_ know?"

Tomas gave him a long look, raised that Hunt chin. "It takes a vote by the seniors for anything major. I’d guess that they did. You’ll have to ask them."

"I intend to," Dylan said quietly.

But Harper knew that voice, knew it very well. He put a hand on Dylan’s shoulder, squeezed gently.

Dylan offered him a wan smile. "And I suppose it’s time to do that now." He looked back at the Tregozzis. "If you need anything, just ask the AI. I know we aren’t well equipped for little ones, but we have some things that Lea has outgrown."

Sarina smiled, a little shakily. "Thank you."

"I’ll get Tyr," Harper said mildly, and stood up. Dylan rose with him, albeit far more carefully. "And I’ll be back when your quarters are ready."

Dylan stopped outside, in the corridor, leaned against the wall. He didn’t say anything, but his color wasn’t reassuring.

"Dylan, this can wait," Harper said firmly.

"No," Dylan said and steadied himself. "No, it can’t. They brought those things on board themselves, risking the rest of their family and crew. I don’t know why, and I don’t know that I care why." He rubbed his forehead. "Get Tyr and Beka. And Rev. Meet me on Deck B in the security office."

Harper nodded, watching Dylan narrowly. "You _don’t_ talk to them alone."

Dylan’s expression was... awful, the more so when he tried to smile at Harper. "Granted." He waved Harper away. "And I want all of you armed, Harper."

Harper nodded. "I’ll get them." He watched Dylan walk away, found a comm and relayed the message to everyone but Trance, who was in the hydroponics garden with Lea.

A stop at the weapons locker and Harper took every shortcut he knew to Deck B. Dylan was sitting at the desk that had once belonged to the Andromeda’s chief of security, his head in his hands; he raised his head when Harper came in, arched an eyebrow in query.

"They’re on their way," Harper said and sat down on the desk next to Dylan. Dylan had been reading the downloaded ship’s log, the comp screen showed Miriam’s face. "Are you okay?"

"I’m fine." Wearily. "I will never understand these people. And what the _hell_ are we supposed to do with the rest of them? They’re hardly equipped for either station or planetside life."

"Well," Harper said, "the older ones are skilled. And the kids--you know, they’re sure as hell safer here than they were on the Falco."

Dylan gave him an incredulous look. "Here?"

"Why not? Philip’s got nothing but good to say about the older ones. And the kids--hell, Sarina and Dom and Fari took care of the kids in the creche and taught the older ones their lessons." Harper raised his eyebrows. "They could sure free up Trance and Philip from kidcare."

Dylan stared at him. "I can’t believe I’m even considering this."

Harper grinned. "Your own pride."

Dylan closed his eyes briefly. "God."

Leaning in, Harper rubbed his cheek against Dylan’s hair. "It’s not their fault, Dylan. Remember what I told you back on Karna that time."

Dylan sighed. "Right." He turned his head, rested his forehead against Harper’s. "We’ll leave it up to them. If they’re interested, we’ll see how it works out."

"Fair enough." Harper curved his fingers around the back of Dylan’s neck. "Just don’t give yourself a lot of grief."

"I’ll try not to." Dryly.

They waited in silence then, waited for the others to arrive. Dylan waited until everyone was there, then stood up. "Rommie, are those drop pods programmed?"

Rommie’s hologram shimmered into existence. "Yes, Dylan. They’ll be returned to the Falco’s cargo hold as you ordered."

Beka’s mouth opened, closed again. She nodded tightly at Dylan. "You found something out."

"Miriam brought the arachnoids aboard," Harper said, when Dylan only nodded.

Tyr shook his head grimly. "Justice served," he muttered.

Rev shifted. "Dylan, are you sure this is what--"

Dylan pointed at him. "Rev, I’ve made my decision. Out of just over two hundred people, there are thirty left, and ten of those are the very people who made this decision." Sharp tone.

It apparently convinced Rev, who bowed slightly. 

Dylan looked at each of them in turn. "I’m using battle ‘bots to make absolutely certain that there’s no trouble from any of them. I’m going to speak to Miriam, and then we’ll escort them two at a time. The drop pods will take two comfortably, especially at this distance."

Beka nodded. "Got it."

Dylan sat down again, dry-scrubbed his face with both hands. "Tyr, Beka, would you mind bringing Miriam in?" Wry smile. "I’m not 100 percent yet."

"Don’t let her know that," Beka said. "Tyr, let’s go. And if the bitch gives us any trouble, shoot her."

Dylan rolled his eyes. "Beka--"

Harper elbowed him.

When they returned, Miriam Tregozzi looked far less polished and in control than she had looked an eon ago, when she’d so courteously asked Dylan to share a glass of wine with her.

Dylan let her stand in silence for several moments, looking at the comp screen where the logs displayed. "I’m sending you and your senior officers back to the Falco," he finally said, his tone like ice. "You made the situation, you can deal with it."

"You won’t do that," Miriam said, with lamentable confidence. "It isn’t your style. I know about you, Dylan Hunt."

"Not as well, evidently, as you’d like to think." Purest ice. "You were responsible for the death of over one hundred members of your own family and crew. You have a chance to survive, if you can figure out to destroy what you yourselves brought aboard. You have a better chance than Lea and Philip ever had. You have a better chance than the children who died over there, because you know what you’re dealing with."

Miriam’s eyes widened briefly, and Harper suddenly knew that Sabra had died without ever telling her mother that Philip and Lea had both survived. He smiled at her without humour and stepped forward. "Yeah, they’re alive. Both of ‘em. Think about that, Miriam, while you’re trying to kill those things."

Dylan gave him a look and he closed his mouth, but his feral joy didn’t dissipate. "Tyr, Beka, escort Miriam and her first officer to a drop pod. Rommie will accompany you with the ‘bots."

Tyr smiled thinly. "It will be my pleasure, Dylan."

Harper barely managed to steady Dylan as the door closed again. "Sit down, dammit. I _knew_ this could wait."

Dylan wiped his forehead. "I want them _off_ my ship."

"Are you delirious?" Harper guided him to the chair behind the desk. "Sit down before you fall down."

Dylan surrendered, leaned forward on the desk. "Okay, okay--damn, you’re bossy."

"Rightly so," Rev said, hovering. "Dylan, I’m not at all sure you should be out of bed."

"I _know_ he shouldn’t be."

Dylan sighed. "As soon as they’re off, I swear, I will lie down and rest."

Hey, this getting bossy thing worked. Harper smirked at Rev. "You’re my witness."

"My own damn pride," Dylan muttered and put his head in his hands.

Harper hesitated, then put his hand on the back of Dylan’s neck again. "Damn right." And smiled.

  


* * *

"So your crew has more than doubled," Benaja said, his expression amused. 

"I don’t count the children," Dylan said dryly, watching the littles play on the obs deck. Karna Prime and he’d come to terms with the fact that he’d taken on more dependents, more hostages to fate or destiny. His adult descendants had opted to stay aboard Andromeda, except for Mari and Reva--and their children--and while he was grudgingly pleased about having more skilled personnel on board, it was nonetheless unsettling to have five more children along with the adults. 

"Even so," Benaja said mildly. "I’ll see that the rest are with kin. There’s a lot of us spread out on the Rim out here, and we look after our own. We aren’t all like Miriam."

Dylan nodded grimly. There were nights he woke, dreaming of the Tregozzi senior officers, but awake, he had no real regrets. Justice may have had some slight taint of vengeance, but it had _been_ justice. 

"Don’t waste any regret on them," Benaja said shrewdly, as if reading his thoughts. "There’s a reason a ship meant to carry 500 only carried 200, Dylan. Those who could, got off _when_ they could. Only reason these kids are alive is that you happened on them."

"I know." He kept his eyes on the children. Tara, Briony’s daughter, was very near Lea’s age; once Lea had gotten past having her nose out of joint, she’d been delighted to have playmates. It had taken a bit for her to get past her shyness of Sarina, but things had settled. Liam and Ger, Fari’s twin sons, were still toddling. Sarina’s eldest, Dru, was five and her youngest, Ric, was two, and then, of course, there was Fari’s four year old, Liss. He really _was_ running a nursery on a battleship. "At least they’re alive. And relatively unscathed."

Benaja chuckled. "You’re not used to it, are you. I grew up with it, seems ordinary to me, but this was a warship."

Dylan smiled faintly. "Sometimes it _seemed_ like there were too many kids on board, but that was my advanced age and the fact that the younger men didn’t seem to need to shave."

Benaja laughed outright. "Oh, aye, grandfather." 

"Ouch." Dylan winced. 

"The insurance settlement on the Falco will pay for passage as needed." Benaja eyed him. "And give this lot a stake, too."

"I’m not taking shares," Dylan muttered. The Falco and its crew had been insured to the hilt. Between the ship’s log and Benaja, the claims had been filed, and since it all, more or less, was Tregozzi money, he had insisted that Benaja divide it among the Tregozzis. If he’d needed more proof of Miriam’s venal nature--he shook his head, looked back at Benaja. "Damn her soul."

Benaja nodded gravely. "No need, she already has. Well, I had best be on my way or my wife will have my ears, landing all these kids on her and leaving her alone with them." His eyes glinted briefly; he turned and clasped Dylan’s hand between his own. "For my part, I have to thank you for getting them off alive. And for keeping the log. Are you going to turn it over to anyone?"

Dylan grimaced. "I had planned to when I downloaded the damn thing. But... the Falco is gone, and the people responsible for the piracy gone with it. The people still alive weren’t responsible, and the odds are good that they’d end up being the ones who’d pay for all. No, I think we’ll just keep it for posterity."

Benaja nodded, let go of his hand. "I think that’s wise. Go safely, we’ll hope to see you next time you come around."

"Count on it," Dylan told him gravely.

One of the little ones wailed, and Briony appeared to untangle them and sort things out. Dylan gave Benaja a helpless look, bore with Benaja’s chuckle and walked his kinsman back to the ramp. 

On the way back to command, he ran into Philip. "Hello, you," he said lightly, "are you ready for some more lessons? I think you’ve learned enough to take her out of dock."

Philip gaped, blushed, and grinned. "Really?"

Dylan put his arm around Philip’s shoulders and steered him toward command. "Really. How is everyone settling in, do you think?"

"They’re settling in great," Harper said, coming up from behind. "So how does it feel to be alpha male of Andromeda Pride?"

He pretended to swat the back of Harper’s head and Harper grinned, unrepentant. Philip laughed softly, trying to pretend he wasn’t. "It feels," Dylan said, as they crossed the threshold to command--Tyr turned and looked down his nose as they did-- "It feels... pretty damned good, actually."

"What feels good?" Tyr asked suspiciously.

"Perhaps you should ask Tyr," Dylan suggested and winked at Harper.

Beka, in the pilot’s seat, turned to regard them with amusement. "Ask Tyr what?"

"How he likes being a part of Andromeda Pride," Harper said.

"Andromeda Pride?" Tyr’s tone was incredulous. " _Andromeda_ Pride?"

"Pride Andromeda?" Beka asked, joining the mischief. "Tyr Anasazi, of Pride Andromeda?"

"I. Don’t. Think. So." 

Dylan smirked at him. "I do. Live with it."

"And be proud," Harper added, the last word as always.

Dylan smiled, and waved Beka out of the pilot’s chair. _He_ certainly intended to be, even if it wasn’t quite what he’d planned for this mission, this life.

Alpha male indeed.

*****THE END*****


End file.
